#if I had a time and space machine I would be doing the exact same thing ngl

[techav]

On Major Milestones

I left off previously with init immediately crashing when trying to run NetBSD on Wrap030, my 68030 homebrew computer. I was completely lost and didn't know where to start looking. The error code it gave, 11, didn't tell me much.

Until now, most error codes I've gotten have been defined in kernel errno.h, which has 11 defined as:

EDEADLK 11 /* Resource deadlock avoided */

That … also isn't helpful. I'm still not entirely sure what that means, but since this is process 1 we're dealing with, I didn't think it was relevant.

Finally, I was able to find someone who had encountered the same error six years ago. Helpful soul [Martin] explained the exact cause of the error, how to fix it, and why the kernel errno didn't line up:

I'm running a NetBSD live disk on a laptop as a test host, so I mounted my disk on it and spent some time with mknod adding the essential device nodes, referencing the "majors" file for my arch. Sure enough, on next boot it skipped right past the point it had been panicking. It worked for a bit then finally printed on the console:

Enter pathname o

Enter pathname of what? The machine appeared frozen. Nothing further printed, and it responded to no input.

I was afraid this would happen. That string is 16 characters. The 16C55x UART chips I'm using have a 16-byte buffer. The system is hung up waiting for the UART to interrupt to indicate it has finished transmitting everything in its buffer.

There's just one problem — I don't have any serial interrupts wired.

I have a confession to make. Until a few weeks ago when I got my timer working, I hadn't really worked with hardware interrupts before. So between a limited understanding of how to use them effectively and limited board space, I had omitted the interrupt signals from my 8-port serial card. This was now a Problem, and I was going to have to find a solution.

I had a few options:

Force the com driver to 8250 mode so it doesn't try to use the buffers

Use my timer interrupt to check status bits on the UARTs and fake the interrupts

Deadbug an interrupt handler onto my serial card

Respin the serial card

Option 4 would've been expensive and risked passing my deadline. I wasn't sure option 1 would even help. And option 3 would have been difficult and error-prone. I decided option 2 would be the way to go so I set about researching how to accomplish it

I spent a few hours digging through the com driver. In the process I found softintr(9), a native NetBSD software interrupt process that looked like just the thing I needed. Digging in a little deeper, I realized that the com driver was already using softintr. And then I realized all it needed to do polled mode serial ports instead of interrupt-driven was to set a single variable, sc_poll_ticks, before initializing the driver. It's such a simple thing, but it's not really documented anywhere I could find, so the only way to know it was even an option was to spend hours studying the code.

With that in place, I recompiled my kernel and tried again.

It was asking for a shell. This is promising. I accepted the default shell, /bin/sh, and waited a moment. It printed a single #.

I had a shell prompt.

I typed in the first thing that came to mind, echo "hellorld" (thanks, [Usagi]). It responded:

hellorld

and printed another # prompt.

I had a working shell.

This is a major milestone. I have a modern operating system kernel loaded and running on my homebrew computer, and I have a functional root shell. I can navigate disk directories and run commands and programs.

But only as root, and only on this one console. I have seven other serial ports I want terminals on, and I certainly don't want them all running as root.

What it's running here is single-user mode. It is just the kernel and a few core services, somewhat analogous to Safe Mode in Windows. It's a fall-back for setting up or repairing a system. It's not quite the full operating system just yet.

Getting the rest of the operating system up and running is going to be a significant task, on par with getting just the kernel running. Setting up a working Unix system from scratch is not easy. It requires a lot of detailed knowledge of the various programs and libraries and config files scattered across the disk. For a sense of scale, the AT&T Unix System V manual was over 1100 pages, plus an 800 page programmer's guide and a handful of other manuals … and that was 40 years ago. That's a lot of specialized knowledge that I don't really have.

But still, this is something I've wanted to do for years and after countless hours of work, I finally have a glimpse of what it can look like. I have a lot to learn and a lot of work to do yet, but I'm certain I can figure it out.

I'm still hoping I can get this running multi-user on all those terminals in time for VCF Southwest in June. The show is just a few weeks away and I have a lot of work to do.

[tinkerbitch69]

Love the implication of the joy to the world opening that the doctor spends his time alone just lounging around the TARDIS in his jammies stealing his groceries and essentials from various points in time xD

[meownotgood]

a few anons asked me about an arcane!viktor and league!viktor fic. here it is. the machine herald and the herald of the arcane sandwich.

18+, arcane season 2 spoilers

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The recent influx of arcane anomalies is responsible for many, many things; the dysfunction of the Hexgates, the instability in several Hextech devices. And additionally, apparently, messing with anomalies often results in rifts, capable of bridging one universe with the next. 

You're assuming, anyway. It's the only option to logically explain why you're currently sandwiched between two Viktors.

"Are they always this… obedient?" Viktor — the menacing, Hexcore-infused, arcane-touched version of Viktor — hums, his voice deep and distinctive. It rumbles through you, threatening to displace your shaky legs with its boom alone, echoing several times before it settles in your eardrums. 

You take in a sharp breath, one you're sure the both of them can hear. The lack of space within the anomaly's pocket of unreality forces you to fall back against his chest. True to his assumption, when Viktor's hands find your waist, your limbs go limp. You pliantly allow him to lift you, until you're settled on his thigh. 

"It is difficult to tell." Viktor — the other Viktor, all metal edges and mechanical thrums — finds your jaw. With a firm, steel index finger, he guides it, carefully bringing your wandering gaze back to him. His mask is expressionless, glowing orange pools of light examining you blankly. 

But you swear, the thickness to the edges of his muffled accent, the way he grabs your chin hard, keeping you in place when your head threatens to fall back, as his counterpart's fingertips analytically skim your side — It screams jealous. 

Your eyes flicker all over his figure, unsure what to focus on. Unsure what to make of this. And Viktor laughs, maniacal and amused. His third arm, his Hexclaw-hand, reaches down towards your much smaller figure, settles on your head, and ruffles your hair in something of a playful, infantilizing gesture. Or, it would be playful, if his third hand wasn't capable of producing a dangerous, one-thousand temperature Death Ray. 

"I believe," Machine-Viktor starts, "We are intimidating them." 

Arcane-Viktor glides his palm over your chest, approving. His touch is foreign, neither rough, nor smooth. "Precisely." 

So much for trying to hide it. In this situation, how could you not be intimidated? 

Both of them are insanely intelligent, to the point it nearly scares you. They're larger, taller; you have to crane your neck up to continue looking at Machine-Viktor, gaze steady on him like he's instructed. 

And Arcane-Viktor is somehow even taller than his copy. It makes you feel helpless in his arms, with the way his figure dwarfs yours completely. You can practically feel the persistent glow of his eyes, boring into you. Examining you with a sixth sense of perception, that could only be defined as inhuman. 

The Machine Herald and the Herald of the Arcane are inscrutable. They're both impossible to read, you couldn't hope to determine what they're planning if you had a million timelines to do so. There's a strange sense of understanding between them. A form of matched intuition, perhaps, that comes with being one in the same. 

Truthfully, they've been arguing, bickering over every topic to be brought up since you got stuck here. Cosmological theories, conflicting assumptions, defining the line between the mechanical and the arcane — It's all flown over your head, honestly. Literally and figuratively. This is the first time they've focused on you since the moment you became pressed in between them. 

Yet, when you are involved, they seem to be on the exact same page. The Machine Herald gives a single nod towards the Arcane Herald, and without the need for words, they're switching tasks. 

Machine-Viktor takes your thighs, holds them instead, palms splayed underneath them to brace the weight. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, locked at the ankles, his metal armor smooth yet firm against your skin — and Arcane-Viktor steps in closer. Your back presses entirely against his chest, helping to support you. 

His outline digs into your shoulder blades, golden and rib-like. And his hands, purple-hued, rich with power, grasp your face to tilt your head back. To make you look at him, instead. You aren't sure which set of eyes to focus on. The claw jutting out from his back twitches, seemingly regarding you with its own element of sentience. The other Viktor stiffens, for a moment. 

But the position you've been placed in is deliberate; it leaves you wide-open. So, he takes advantage of the opportunity his counterpart has graced him with. His third arm hums mechanically as he moves it. He brings its hand to your mouth, and your lips part to let him press his thumb inside. 

It's more analytical than anything else. 

Arcane-Viktor watches, transfixed, as your tongue swirls around the faux metal digit. It's a curious lesson in mortal instinct. You whimper, your gaze grows misty as you try your hardest to focus on him, but you barely falter. You aren't giving up. Weak and desperate, your whole body shudders, enough to be felt on his palms as a tremble rushes through you. 

Oh, you want to be made to shudder, he realizes. This is a wealth of emotion and excitement and desire for you, an addicting amalgamation of new sensations to experience. Humans love to chase this high. They cannot be distracted by fear, when raw, depraved need clouds their judgement. His machine-equivalent understands this concept, surely. 

Your plush lips meet the artificial joints: welded with clean, steel pivots. Viktor would recognize his own handiwork anywhere. But the intricate assembly around each linkage — the other Viktor has improved the design, he's made each subdivision double-jointed. 

Intriguing. Perhaps he should teach his opposite self about the arcane, as reimbursement. 

Your tongue licks a hot, slow stripe onto the end of the Machine Herald's thumb, and he breathes a half-sigh, half-huff, causing smoke to pour from the sides of his mask. 

There's warmth, coming from both of their figures. Just two different kinds of warmth. For the Arcane Herald, it's electric, like stars and static, racing across your skin. For the Machine Herald, it's more stifling, artificial. Like standing over a hot stove. It's the heat of countless individual parts of machinery, internal and external, all working in unison to support his processes. 

And you're starting to sweat. 

"Marvellous," Arcane-Viktor murmurs, oddly inquisitive. "Are they not?" 

Removing his thumb from your mouth, the metal slick with your saliva, the Machine Herald gives a rumbling hum of approval. 

"Yes. They are." 

Your throat tightens, suddenly dry. From above you, the all-powerful Herald of the Arcane tilts his head ever-so slightly, adjacent to an interested cat. He taps his thumb against your puffy bottom lip, as though he's considering repeating the display himself. Lingering residuals of magic thread through you faintly, tingling on your lips with each idle tap. 

When he decides against it, finally letting go of your face, Machine-Viktor is quick to grasp your chin with his Hexarm. Roughly guiding your gaze back in his direction. Selfishly recapturing your attention. 

Unfortunately, your attention is everywhere. It shifts, placed between the budding heat in your body, the weightlessness of your limbs as you're held in place, the press of metal armor to your thighs, the tracing of confident fingertips up your stomach. Your vision blurs around the edges, you can barely focus when you're this overwhelmed. 

Arcane-Viktor's palm is beginning to trace up your chest, and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding, if either of them know how much you're enjoying this. Surely, they're well-acquainted. They fucking tower over you, and you're bare, you are pliant. For either version of them, for Viktor, you will always be just as they hypothesized. 

Obedient. 

"They are trembling. How curious," The Herald of the Arcane continues, but the deep, confident vibrato to his voice makes you believe your reaction is far from unexpected. "Theoretically, I could imagine this being too much for them." 

"No," The Machine Herald counters, "It is not." 

The Arcane Herald appears to express as much aversion as an unchanging expression is able to. His palm begins to trace back down, this time. With the same slow, methodical movements; possessive, in a way. Down to your stomach, stopping just above your pelvis. 

"You would truly place confidence in their ability to take us?" 

Hands suddenly grasping your thighs tighter, you're pulled closer, unintentionally grinding you against the ridges of his metal plating — you breathe a quick, pleasured noise, your thighs tremor hard, but you know his iron grip wouldn't let them fall — and the Machine Herald practically scoffs. 

"They will take all we give to them. Such is the essence of their potential." 

The Arcane Herald pauses, before he answers, "I believe in your own lingering sentimentality, Machine Herald, you may be vastly overestimating their limits." 

"It is not sentiment." The Machine Herald's voice is level. His thick accent curls around the words, tone rich with a downright ruthless sense of certainty. "Receptors in my central system have been allocated to measure their breathing. The pattern is not one of discomfort. They are rife with… eagerness." 

His Hexarm reaches for your neck, and your head tilts back submissively. As confirmation, your heart skips, your breath catches. Your gaze is heavy and pleading. He squeezes methodically, until your eyes are rolling back, and your arms are falling limp. 

Precise fingertips find your forehead, they muddle your every thought and function as their prying touch seeks to enter your mind. Your thoughts converge into a singular, tightly knit thread, pounding in echoes of pleasure. A hand brushes between your spread legs, finds where you are slick and aching — 

"Viktor-" 

Your voice is weak, desperate, shuddery from the lack of use. 

And to your delight, both of your overseers react. Machine-Viktor gives your thighs a firm squeeze, he caresses your throat fondly. Arcane-Viktor teases you. His fingertips purposefully prod your waiting entrance, and Gods, they feel like magic incarnate. 

They vibrate from the intensity of their own existence. You can feel every thrum, and each lush wave of the arcane, vibrating mercilessly against your sweetest spot. Then, just as you're beginning to believe you could come apart merely from this, his hand is delicately shifting away, and you're left to quiver around nothing. 

"Fuck," You're swearing, "Please- don't stop…" 

The Herald of the Arcane, as though he wasn't just mere moments away from sinking his fingers inside you, replies in a distinctly composed tone. "Humans can be such demanding creatures." 

The Machine Herald nearly sounds annoyed. "You have forgotten our initial objective. We may switch places, if you are convinced you cannot satisfy them." 

"Whatever occurred in your timeline, it is clear you never learned patience. We have time. Our research will prove most accurate when it is fleshed out to its fullest, not when it is rushed. Unless, perhaps you have discerned a solution to getting us out of this anomaly. Do share, Machine Herald." 

Machine-Viktor remains still. Utterly unreadable, as always. 

"Hold them." 

Everything happens so quickly, so flawlessly, you'd almost swear they planned this — Arcane-Viktor takes hold of your thighs, he keeps them spread while he leans your body against his chest. And Machine-Viktor grasps your face, squeezes your cheeks, his leather glove rough against your chin. He's so close, all you can see is the orange of his makeshift eyes. Bright and intimidating, clouding your view with polychrome shapes, like if you were to glance at the sun for too long. 

His touch is distinctly different, it is steady, resolute, determined. A single thick, metal finger drags through your arousal to first get the steel slick, and then he is pressing it inside; you can feel every small joint and deliberate ridge as he fills you. One of his manufactured digits is essentially the equivalent to three of yours. 

You're left to weakly slump against his copy, completely at his mercy as he fucks you open, completely at their mercy as the two of them watch you attentively. Focused on the way his digit disappears within you, how your chest heaves as you gasp and whine. 

"This is not enough stimulus," Arcane-Viktor ascertains. Matter-of-fact, his echoing voice perfectly stable. "Their thoughts are still clouded. Preferably, we would want them- their mind, and their body- to think only of us." 

"Not enough? I thought you believed they could not handle us both." Machine-Viktor scoffs. 

It's a challenge. An analytical assumption, and if his copy is anything like him, he knows it's a notion they'll enjoy deciphering. Together. With you as the subject. 

"Well?" The Machine Herald hums, "Are you willing to put your hypothesis to the test?" 

[fatuismooches]

Can be read as a continuation of this. Fragile reader's journey to understand all the segments continues as this time they set their eyes on none other than Webttore, who is referred to as 02 in this fic. I miss Webby, everyone. Overall, just lots of fluff.

After a few centuries-long coma, when you woke up, the hardest thing to process wasn’t that fact. It wasn’t the fact your lover, who now went by “Dottore” instead of “Zandik” was now a powerful Harbinger. It wasn’t the fact you had to deal with this illness for who knows how long (actually, this was quite hard to process, but you tried your best not to dwell on it.) Rather, it was the fact that Dottore now had copies of himself running around. And if you were to properly adjust to your new life, you absolutely had to make room for them. But that was easier said than done.

They were all Zandik, but at the same time, they felt like strangers to you. They were familiarly enigmatic as you had remembered the original one, but you weren’t sure if you were good enough to puzzle each of them out all over again… However, pursuing Zandik as a student meant that you certainly were a persistent soul, so you would try!

You had already found company in another segment, 24 to be exact. At first, you were unsurprisingly intimidated by him, with his imposing nature and stern voice. However, with a bit of courage, you were able to get to know him a bit more, outside of what you saw of him while he was working. It was a lovely experience, if you put aside how his words made your heart race, and his touch made your body ache for him.

Regardless, now that you had 24 down, it was time to broaden your horizons. It was time to put your newly found confidence to the test once again - which meant it was time for you to woo and get wooed by another one of Dottore’s segments. Which segment was it this time, one may ask? Well, it was none other than the one who donned that white and black mask, with a pink bowtie where that color too lurked in the insides of his coat, with a nature as equally as striking as his red eyes.

02 was his name. Once again, a very intriguing man. He was nothing like Prime or 24, making you quite interested in him. You still remember the few times you met him, it was nothing like the poised elegance 24 carried. He was rough and more outwardly eccentric, yet it was equally as alluring. You wanted to know more. And learn more you shall.

Unfortunately, you did not see much of him in the main lab, as he preferred to stay in his own one far more. So you would need to make the trip there. In fact, you were so prepared that you had walked to the area of his lab numerous times and came back so you wouldn’t get lost this time. However, in all honesty, you had no idea what you were even going to say or do, but you just hoped the situation would flow as smoothly as it did with 24. 

As you got closer to the doors of 02’s lab, your pace slowed and your heartbeat quicked as you realized the door was slightly ajar. This was a good chance to simply… observe the segment. Even though you previously had confidence, the idea of knocking on 02’s door made you anxious still. Carefully, you tip-toed and peeked into the room, biting your lip in anticipation.

It was a very large space, really spacious actually, and yet so much of it was filled with many things. There were numerous desks and tables that had a variety of parts and stacks of papers, not to mention there weren’t just Ruin Machines and the sort either. You could see some dissembled robots that you swore had glowing eyes. Strange. But interesting. Not to mention the size of some of them - you really don’t remember Ruin Guards being so large four hundred years ago… could perhaps these be ones 02 created himself? You were fascinated. Of course, you were no stranger to Zandik’s fascination with Khaenri’ahn machines. You often accompanied him on his unauthorized expeditions to examine them further back in the Akademiya.

Speaking of, 02 himself was standing in front of them, the height and size difference being laughable. His coat had been thrown over a chair, and he was simply wearing a vest with a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up with his gloves still on. Very attractive, you had to admit, but that was beside the point. You could see he was mumbling to himself, impatiently tapping the table next to him that had various tools on it, when his expression abruptly changed. A smile appeared on his face as he began to laugh and then mumble under his breath more excitedly. Perhaps he had a breakthrough? You wished to know what went through his mind.

Eagerly, you leaned forward to try and hear more but simultaneously forgot the situation you were in right now - pretty much spying on him. Unfortunately, you did not account for the uncomfortably loud groaning that came from the door when you only slightly pushed on it.

Oops. Why did these things always happen to you? There was truly no backing out now, from the way 02’s laughter immediately stopped as his red eyes glanced behind him, an irritated frown in place of his previous smile.

“Who-” 02 turned around to face the intruder who would be so stupid as to interrupt him, but his expression changed once again when he realized this was no ordinary intruder, it was you. “It is you. You are here.” There was not a grin or a frown on the segment’s face, rather, he seemed surprised yet intrigued at the same time. You sweated as he began to walk towards you.

“Yes, yes, it is me, [Name]. I am here,” you smiled, as you were forced to step out from behind your protection of the lab’s door. “I wanted to… visit you! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, so you know, just wanted to check up on you and all,” you said with a rather awkward chuckle. Why did you always seem to have a loss of words during the beginning while talking to these men? 02 continued to look at you unmovingly with those lovely eyes of his. You cleared your throat as you took a few steps further into the room.

“Anyway, I must say that I am quite captivated by this… research of yours. I have never seen such a variety of machines before,” you stated genuinely, another smile etching its way onto your lips. It was then you realized that 02 had gotten closer to you, practically standing side by side merely looking at you, as if silently beckoning you to continue. That stare of his… it was quite cute.

“That one for example,” you pointed to the one the segment was previously preoccupied with, “it’s far larger than any machine I remember from back then. Is it-”

“RG-271.” You blinked at 02’s interruption. “That machine’s name,” he clarified. “Experiment RG-271.”

“I-I see. Is there any particular reason that- oh!” 

“Come.” Once again, before you could finish, the segment grabbed your arm and began to pull you to where he once stood with glee that could not be mistaken. You tried to ignore the slight heat creeping up your neck.

You hadn’t really given the segments the time of day yet, still clinging to Prime Dottore and being nervous around the clones, so to have you here so closely, of your own volition too, was an unexpected yet extremely welcomed course of events for 02. Oh, he knew you would never disappoint him, and of course, the segment was going to reap the rewards of this situation. 

“As I was saying, did you make some of these machines yourself?” 02 presented you with a wide grin, and you could see his pointy teeth on full display.

“Indeed I have. Simply experimenting on the old ones gets boring at times, and I too wish to surpass this ancient technology.” Before you could respond, he suddenly began to dig in a rather overcrowded box of many parts, some of which you recognized and some you didn’t. The collection of Chaos Oculus and Cores brought back fond memories, but these ones seem a bit different from usual. Enhanced by the segment, perhaps?

Regardless, before long he had gathered numerous ones and you had quickly realized that he was really going to explain to you in-depth about every part of this machine. Of course, you had no protest to this. For one, you were interested, and 02 looked so happy to go on and on about his research. Did he have no one else to tell this to? Actually, you don’t know why you asked that, of course he didn’t. (Thankfully, he had a stool for you to sit on, for your poor legs wouldn’t be able to hold you for the length of time he would talk.)

However, his animatedness quickly came and went as he then clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Though, I had yet to make them work. Unfortunately, they cannot move around as authentic machines can,” 02 said in disappointment. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I would not worry too much. You are smart enough to figure it out in due time.” The praise naturally left your lips because, well, you wholeheartedly believed it. 02 seemed to enjoy your compliment. It was amusing how you could read his feelings so easily despite that mask of his. Although you wondered if he was like this right now solely because of you.

“I shall.” You gently smiled at him again as he began to tidy up the mess he just made (although the end result certainly wasn’t anything to applaud.) But 02 wasn’t going to let you go yet.

“Would you like to see one in action?”

“You mean, see a Ruin Guard… move? In here? But isn’t that dangerous?” You were having flashbacks to the time you had to fend off a few because Zandik had decided to be a bit too eager in his research. 02 looked to be unconcerned at your worry.

“Worry not. I have control over them.” He took pride in your glittering admiring eyes, pulling you off your seat and leading you over to the other side of his lab. 02 then began to inspect the line of Ruin Guards against the wall, before then snapping his fingers.

“RG-134. Perfect.” You watched as he then began to tinker with it, not really knowing what was going on, but content to watch. But there was not much to watch as he finished quickly, and suddenly the machine stirred to life, the familiar blinking of yellow light signaling its awakening. Instinctively, you took a few steps back, heart racing from the machine that now loomed over you, but 02 pulled you closer.

“Do not be afraid. It will hinder you. Is this not a great opportunity?” You swallowed nervously, but you trusted him anyway. You took some careful steps toward the Ruin Guard, and it paid you no mind as you began to feel the machinery on the pads of your fingers.

“Huh… it really is docile. How did-” Your words were mostly drowned out by the creaking of the Ruin Guard’s leg lowering so that its hand was leveled with your body. You looked at 02 for help, but he motioned for you to go on.

“You want me to get on it? It’s going to be too high up!”

“Do you think I will let it drop you?” 02 seemed amused at your predicament. You pouted - it did seem really cool to have a ride on a Ruin Guard’s hand, but you were still a bit scared, so you placed your hand out.

“Come with me, then.” The segment’s eyes widened, probably not expecting your request, but he agreed with uncharacteristic silence. Thankfully, the machine’s palm was big enough to fit both of you, but your shoulder still brushed with 02’s. And then with some more creaks, you two were suddenly lifted into the air. You couldn’t help but quickly grab his arm as you watched the floor get more and more distant, but 02 seemed as if this didn’t bother him at all.

“Relax. You of all people should know how to enjoy this.” His words weren’t exactly comforting but they still served to help calm yourself. He was right - once you got rid of your fear, it was… super cool.

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you for this,” you giggled, as the machine slowly stomped around, careful to avoid any obstacles. 02 ignored how captivating you looked right now and looked away from the sight.

“I could also show you my Ruin Drakes if-” Before he could finish, the segment felt something soft brush against his cheek. Your lips to be exact, and before he could say or do anything, it ended.

“That does sound lovely, but…” you tried to stifle a yawn, “I am rather tired. I think I need a nap…” That stare you had gotten used to was back on you again, but you ignored it in order to quell your embarrassment. (You did not go for his lips because you were a bit shy to do that so early on, but also because that silly mask of his covered nearly half of his mouth. Good thing you were sitting on the side where his cheek was exposed…)

“I see. Then I suppose I will be seeing more of you, then?” For now, he had to resist the urge to sink his teeth into you after that little stunt of yours. Only for now, however.

“I would like that.”

“Excellent.” Soon enough, you were back on the ground again, but you did not want to return to your room.

“02, can I sleep here?”

“Here?” He cocked his head to the side. “I will not stop you, however, I cannot promise you it will be quiet.” You laughed at his response. It was different from 24’s strict one.

“Not to worry. I believe I will fall asleep anyway,” you hummed as you made yourself cozy on a rather uncomfortable couch (that was already very out of place here). “Mhm… good night, 02.” You did not receive any response, but you were happy.

… But then you remembered something.

“Wait! Wait, I forgot the most important question of all!” 02 turned back with a questioning look.

“Yes?” You passionately placed your hand on your chest as you then spoke.

“You need to show me those flying pointy beaming things of yours. I have never seen a weapon quite like it.”

“...”

From the day he came into this world as 02, to the day you named him to live and die as Beta, he will love you.

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess - Part 10

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya go to the doctor to get you diagnosed.

A/N: We're making progress. I truly don't know how long this series is going to be because i keep coming up with new ideas.

Chapters

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You sat in the hospital's waiting area with Chishiya, him sitting right next to you.

Your leg was bouncing fast out of anxiety and how nervous you were right now. Chishiya noticed it and gently laid his hand on your jean covered knee.

"It'll be alright," he tried to reassure quietly, though he couldn't help but have his heart racing faster than normal as well. You showed the anxiety taking control of you physically, but Chishiya tried his best to hide it deep inside of him, so you wouldn’t see how he truly felt about the situation you two were in.

"Ms. Suguru," a nurse announced. You swallowed and got up, glancing at Chishiya one last time who gave you a comforting nod.

The doctor took an MRI scan of your head, seeing if there was any sort of abnormalities in your brain.

As you were laying inside the massive machine tube, which name you had forgotten, you started to overthink immediately. You tried to stay calm and take deep breaths, telling yourself that it wouldn’t take long anymore, hoping being in this tight space wouldn’t cause a panic attack if this took longer than you had been prepared for it to take.

What if it was a tumor? Did tumors cause you to hallucinate? You didn't know anyone with a brain tumor or cancer so you weren't entirely aware of the possible symptoms. Maybe it was a tumor, and the doctor would tell you that you had four months left to live — at best.

Maybe you had inherited schizophrenia from your great-aunt and would be locked up in a mental hospital for the rest of your life. Your child would be bullied at school for their mother being lunatic and deranged. Maybe, maybe, maybe — there were so many maybes you couldn’t handle it if you had to wait for the result for too long.

“Shut up,” you quietly mumbled, trying to make your brain calm down, but didn’t succeed at it very well.

You felt like you were starting to suffocate, not knowing how long you had been inside the machine. It had probably been just a few minutes but it felt like hours. Heart beating almost painfully fast the more time passed, palms sweating and breath starting to tremble. You wanted to scream that you needed to get out but just then it was over and you were pulled out of the machine, as if the doctor had heard your panicked thoughts. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you had said words out loud which you thought you had managed to only keep inside your mind.

Chishiya took his turn in the scanner after you, letting you wait in the doctor's office. You had insisted to have an appointment together, since you had experienced the exact same thing. You needed someone on your side, someone who brought you comfort and managed to calm you down, to reduce the anxiety twisting inside your chest and stomach. And Chishiya was the person who could do all of that. Only his presence by your side brought enough comfort to let you relax. It felt as safe as when you had visited a doctor with your mother when you had been just a little kid — not that you’d compare Chishiya to your parent, no. He only awakened that same feeling of safety inside you.

Chishiya returned to the room with you sooner than you expected. Had it really taken you too that short time?

“Are you feeling alright?” Chishiya asked as he sat on the chair next to you.

“Mhm,” you mumbled and tried to smile, at least a little bit.

The doctor sat on his seat on the opposite side of the table. A small metal plate was attached to his white doctor’s coat with a name “Dr. Oshima” printed on it with black letters.

"Now, this is something I’m not sure i can explain very well," the doctor started, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Chishiya asked.

"Well, you told me you had experienced quite realistic hallucinations, correct?" You just nodded your head when the doctor glanced at you. "I'd start inspecting on possible schizophrenia, psychosis or something similar and there are some signs pointing at psychosis, yes, but it's a little different than what I've seen before on patients with such disorders. However, I would cross schizophrenia out of the list, if you were concerned about that.”

Both you and Chishiya furrowed your eyebrows, confused what the doctor exactly meant. But you let out a relieved sigh out of your lungs.

“You told me that these hallucinations started soon after the meteorite attack, correct?” the doctor asked, which you confirmed. “It is possible that you experienced a serious brain injury from the accident. A traumatic brain injury can cause psychosis on a person, so I would say it’s the most plausible cause for your hallucinations with the information I have now.”

So, no tumor or schizophrenia? Just a brain injury?

“Have you experienced any other symptoms that could point at a brain injury?” he asked. “Such as persisting headache, confusion, loss of coordination, troubles on speech?”

“Well, I’ve gotten some headaches, but nothing else, really,” you explained, which Chishiya admitted suffering as well more often than usual.

“Hm. I see,” he mumbled. “Well, the symptoms vary a lot from person to person. I can prescribe you with one medication to see if the symptoms go away and book an appointment for you in, let's say, a month? To see if the medication has started to work."

"Um," you started nervously and held your stomach. "Is it safe for a baby? I'm pregnant."

You felt awkward asking about it next to Chishiya, realizing that you hadn't mentioned about the pregnancy to him. Or had you? You weren't sure anymore. Besides, did you even have any reason to tell him about it? You weren't obliged to do that, you hardly knew the man. You noticed how Chishiya glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but you ignored him.

"I'll write you a prescription for the type of medicine which is the safest to take during pregnancy," the doctor explained, a reassuring smile on his face.

He typed something on his computer.

"I'd like to arrange you a psychiatric meeting with me but my calendar is extremely full for the next few weeks," the doctor sighed. "I can see if my colleague has more space in her calendar but if not, we'll see in a month, alright? If anything urgent comes up, give me a call."

♤♡♧◇

None of you said a word while you walked down the hospital's corridors and out of the hospital, both of you deep in your thoughts.

You hadn't told Chishiya you were pregnant, no, but he did have a feeling that you were expecting a baby. He had heard your conversation at the hospital with Niragi, though only a small part of it, but he had heard a mention of you being pregnant. As he had gotten to know you better, the thought had slipped his mind but it was still rooted in some part of his brain.

There had been really no reason for you to tell about your pregnancy to Chishiya, it wasn’t any of his business, he knew that. But he couldn’t help but think if the father was around. Chishiya could only assume that he wasn’t, since the only person Chishiya had seen you around was your brother. Although, of course Chishiya didn’t know what you did during the day or where you went, you didn’t tell Chishiya about your every move. Maybe you did spend time with another guy. However, surely the man in question would have taken you in to live with him after your apartment got ruined by the meteorite and not leave you to be dependent on Niragi.

Imagining you with another man stung Chishiya’s heart for some odd reason. Stop it, her life is none of your business, Chishiya thought.

The doctor had actually confirmed that you were crazy, that something was wrong with your head. Of course you had been prepared to the worst but walking into a pharmacy to pick up a new medication for you was like a slap on the face. You had still expected to hear words like "oh, it's just stress it'll go away on its own if you keep up with healthy lifestyle, such as enough sleep and balanced meals." No. You had to start eating pills which you had never taken before.

"Do you want to grab something to eat?" Chishiya asked, not sure if you'd just want to go back home and be alone or if you wanted – or needed – some company. Chishiya wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was the one who didn’t want to be alone at the moment, afraid of his brain starting to spiral and how there would be nobody to share the things he’d see or hear.

"I'm not really hungry," you said, even though you didn't remember the last time you had eaten.

"I've been with you for the past five hours," Chishiya pointed out. "You just think you're not hungry."

Now that you had confirmed to him that you were carrying a child, it was even a bigger reason to make you eat, even if you didn't feel like it.

"I'm fine, really," you groaned. "I'm sure you have something better to do anyway."

"I don't really," he shrugged. I just don't want to be alone right now because if i am, my brain won't shut up about things that don't exist and you make my mind calm down in some odd way, Chishiya thought but preferred to keep it inside his head. "I mean, we don't have to if you have something planned already."

"Well, i don't have anything, no," you admitted, feeling suddenly shy around him. Every time you had spent time with each other, you had just accidentally ended up together. He hadn't suggested or asked to hang out with you, previously you had just been forced to be in each other's company. Now he was asking to spend time with you just a little more? It made you feel all giddy and… wanted? "So, where would you take me?"

"What do you like to eat?" he asked.

"Anything, really," you shrugged.

The two of you ended up in a small place for some simple ramen, it was a place you had often went to and loved the cozy atmosphere, as well as the food there. You didn't care to go searching for any fancier restaurant, wanting just something quick and easy. This place was never packed full either.

“By the way, I’m moving out in a few days,” you revealed after a short silence, having called back to the real estate agent to accept the offer of the apartment you had gone to check out. “Found my own apartment.”

Chishiya was aware that you and Niragi living with Jae-sung had to be just a temporary solution but Chishiya still had an odd feeling inside him at the thought of you leaving. He had gotten used to having you one floor below him and having a chance of walking past you in the corridors or stairs at any moment he was leaving or going back to his own apartment. Having you live close to him. Now, he wouldn’t see you anymore.

“Oh, well. Congratulations,” he said, not sure what to say when someone moved into a new place. “Where are you moving?”

“You want to stalk me, huh?” you smirked.

“I’m not that obsessed with you, don’t worry.”

“Mhm. So, you admit you’re a little obsessed, hm?” you teased.

“You’re putting words into my mouth again,” he stated, not going to admit that he was growing quite fond of you day by day.

“That wasn’t a ‘no’.” You bit your lip, loving to tease him like that.

“I was only asking how afraid I have to be of bumping into you in a grocery store. Or if I have to change my schedule coming back home from work,” he explained and twirled the noodles on his plate with his chopsticks.

“Don’t worry, you can buy your groceries in peace and I’ll use different metro stops than you,” you replied. “It’s about half an hour walk from your place.”

So, at least you weren’t changing cities. Why did he care anyway? He didn’t, of course he didn’t. He’d be more than happy and relieved to get you out of the way and be able to live in peace. No, he wasn’t happy about that. Now if he wanted to keep seeing you, he’d have to call or text you. To ask for your phone number. Did you want to keep in touch with him or just move on with your life which didn’t include him?

“Chishiya?” you asked, startling Chishiya from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“What were you thinking about? Zoning out like that,” you asked.

“Oh, nothing important,” Chishiya denied.

“It doesn’t have to be important, you know."

“It’s nothing, really."

“Alright,” you said, though feeling slightly suspicious of his behavior.

Both of you continued eating in comfortable silence for a moment, until Chishiya got the urge to break the silence.

"So, you think it's going to be a girl or a boy?" Chishiya asked, gaze at your stomach. He was a little unsure if you wanted to talk about it or not but he wanted to try. He wanted to know more about it, just a little bit.

"Oh, i don't think i'm that far yet to know," you chuckled.

"But what does your instinct say?" Chishiya asked, narrowing his eyes. "Mothers always have an instinct relating to their children. Or so i've heard."

"Well… i suppose a girl," you admitted. At first when you found out about being pregnant, your mind had been stuck on the option of abortion and how you wanted to get rid of the baby. But the more time passed, the better you had gotten used to the idea of having a child. You still got mixed feelings, of course you did, you weren’t exactly ready to become a mom but you couldn’t bring yourself to get an abortion either. You were scared and wished more than anything to have someone by your side as terrified as you. Niragi wasn’t the person for that or none of your friends either, not really, because they had no part in this pregnancy.

"Yeah?" Chishiya said, a little smile appearing on his face at the thought of you with a little girl.

You fell silent for a moment and put your chopsticks down on the plate, one question still bothering you.

"Um, this probably sounds stupid but…" you started, for a moment avoiding eye contact with Chishiya and swallowed a lump in your throat. "Are paternity tests 100% correct each time?"

Chishiya furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes, they are. Why?"

"Oh, i just, never mind," you mumbled, looking at your hands to avoid eye contact with him. Of course they were foolproof, what were you thinking.

"Everything okay?" he asked, though clearly seeing that something was worrying you.

You were unsure if you should start opening up to Chishiya, even though the more days passed it had started to become easier and easier to talk to him. You hadn't talked about this to anyone except Niragi and Takuro, and you hadn't exactly been opening up about a lot of details to them either. You hadn't talked about it to your friends either, you just didn't feel comfortable opening up to others easily. If you told about your pregnancy to your friends, they’d start going crazy excited and make you feel suffocated for all the attention you’d get. You weren’t ready for that.

If you told anyone that you didn't know who the father was, what kind of slut would that make you sound like? That would just sound like you were sleeping around with several men at once. Why would anyone believe you that you hadn't had sex with a man in months? That made it impossible to have a child growing inside you.

"Everything's fine," you assured, regretting that you had brought the subject up at all.

"Is the father in the picture?" Chishiya asked, feeling a sting in his heart that you'd already belong to someone else. It shouldn't be something that Chishiya would care about, it was none of his business, but he had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach when he even thought about you in some other man's arms.

"No, he's not," you mumbled.

You wanted to tell someone that you didn't know the dad and to comfort you that there was a good explanation for that. Chishiya was as insane as you though — a damn doctor had confirmed it and put you on the same medication — so maybe he wouldn't think that you were a crazy slut. Right? Should you take the risk? Feel the relief of getting it out of your chest and have someone tell you that everything was going to be alright. That you'd find the answer soon. Help you to figure out what happened to you.

But was Chishiya the right person for that? You didn't exactly know each other well but there was this strange bond between the two of you which neither you or Chishiya could explain with words. The bond made sense in your head but if you had to explain it with words, you wouldn't be able to do that.

"Y/N?" Chishiya said when you had zoned out. You weren't sure if he had said something to you or if you had just floated in silence the entire time now.

"If i tell you something, promise me you won't think i'm even crazier than i've proved to be by far," you said, lowering your voice and having a much more serious expression on your face.

Chishiya only furrowed his eyebrows, growing both confused and curious. "Alright, I'll try."

"I… i don't exactly know who's the dad," you mumbled. That was something Chishiya hadn't entirely expected to hear. You saw the surprised expression on his face and had to continue before he’d reply anything. "And before you say anything, I'm not a whore.” You let out a deep sigh. “I… i haven't slept with anyone in months. I shouldn't even be pregnant."

Chishiya eyed you for a moment, glancing at your belly which had a slight bump already.

"The doctor has 100% confirmed that you're pregnant?" Chishiya asked. Maybe the doctor had misdiagnosed you, that happened sometimes, right?

"Yes," you replied. "You're a doctor. Is this, like, possible? To become pregnant out of nowhere?" Of course it wasn't.

“It’s not,” Chishiya replied, even though he knew you were already well aware of it.

Because you got me pregnant so you're supposed to do everything i tell you, you voice stated seriously.

Chishiya choke on his food, starting to cough violently, a few pieces of noodles flying back into his plate.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, are you okay?” You filled his glass with more water and handed it to him. He took the glass and when his coughs had calmed down, drank the water in one go.

“What did you say?” he asked, his throat sore.

“I asked if you’re okay,” you replied.

“No, uh, before that,” he continued, coughing one more time. His face had turned now red.

“Um, just that if it was possible to become pregnant just like that,” you answered.

He had imagined it. Just imagined it.

♤♡♧◇

You arrived back home, Chishiya stopping at your door when you were searching for the keys in your purse. The entire walk back to this building all kinds of thoughts were racing inside Chishiya’s mind which he wouldn’t be able to talk out with you. All the dreams, voices and illusions had felt so real, but how real actually were they?

"Um, can i ask you something?" Chishiya asked, making you look at him. "Are you allergic to anything?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why do you ask that?" Then, your eyes lit up, a playful grin spreading on your face. "Chishiya, are you planning to take me on a dinner, hm?"

"No, no i," Chishiya stuttered. "I didn't plan anything, like that, but… are you? Allergic to something?"

"Well, for peanuts, yeah," you answered and shrugged.

"I see," he mumbled, his behavior making you narrow your eyes.

"That all?" you asked.

"Yep, that's all," Chishiya replied.

You gave him one last weird look and closed the door behind you.

As you entered inside, Niragi was leaning against the wall a few metres away from the front door, arms crossed against his chest as he looked at you. Like he was a mom waiting her teenage kid to come back home late way over her curfew, ready to teach a lesson for not respecting the household's rules.

You rolled your eyes. "What?"

"What's up with you and that guy?" Niragi asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you stalking me now?" you scoffed.

"Just happened to see you together at the hospital," he said and shrugged. “Holding hands and all.”

"The fuck were you at the hospital for?" you asked.

He showed you his hand, bandages around his wrist. "Broke my hand.”

"Do i want to know why?"

"Probably not." He shrugged. "So, why were you there? You don't look ill or have broken bones?" He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Was it some baby stuff and he’s the dad?”

“He’s not the dad,” you groaned. You sighed and pinched your nose, closing your eyes for a second. "I got my head scanned, alright.”

He was silent for a moment. So, you really weren’t kidding about going to see a doctor. But why would you go there with your neighbor? And not with Niragi, for instance?

"What did they say?" he asked.

"Got me antipsychotics."

"I see," Niragi mumbled. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” you answered, now just wanting to be by yourself for a moment.

♤♡♧◇

Peanut allergy was one of the most common allergies, of course Chishiya knew that, but that didn't help the fact that the dream he experienced started to freak him out even more.

Chishiya was curious about what kind of dreams you had experienced, surely there were others which you hadn’t revealed to him. He remember all of the dreams about you. How he had held you close to him, touching every inch of you and done things which Chishiya hadn’t done to a woman in a long time. How he had made love to you. He could never tell you about those sort of thoughts, definitely creeping you out if you hadn’t experienced anything even close to that.

He had been correct on you having a peanut allergy, which made his mind linger in one another thing.

What kind of fucked up thought would it be if i was the father of your child, even though I've never actually slept with you? Otherwise than in my dreams, that is. You had been unsure about the father anyway.

Chishiya needed to start taking his medication this instant, starting to already think something even more insane like this.

"Jesus christ you're losing it," Chishiya mumbled and looked at the pills he had gotten from the pharmacy.

♤♡♧◇

After you and Chishiya had left the hospital, doctor Oshima kept sitting on his chair for a little while longer, staring at the MRI pictures of your brain. Both of your brains, trying to figure out what the specific diagnosis could be. They looked almost exactly same, it could have easily been two scans of one person’s brain but it wasn’t. He hadn’t seen anything like this before. Sure, it pointed to psychosis but there was something different compared to other patients with psychosis.

Then, he heard a knock on the door, his colleague's head peeking inside when he had yelled a sign for her to come inside.

"Did you print the documents for the patient in the morning?" his colleague, doctor Kisaragi, asked.

"Oh, yes. I have them right here," doctor Oshima said and handed them to her.

"Thanks, i'll get back home after checking these in."

"Hey, hold on," Oshima interrupted, making her stop. "Could you look at these MRI scans?" He handed the scans to her. "Two patients came in for suffering from hallucinations. What do you think that is?"

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking at the scans for a moment until her face went pale.

No, it couldn't be.

She had seen these sort of scans before. Once, 12 years ago. Two people had come to her office, just like you and Chishiya, claiming to suffer from severe hallucinations, them starting one day out of nowhere. A lot of time had passed, but doctor Kisaragi still remembered those MRI scans like it was yesterday.

Not only the scans, but also what eventually had happened to the two patients.

"Looks like psychosis,” she confirmed, looking back towards Oshima. “What did you prescribe to them?"

"Antipsychotics."

She knew the medication wasn't going to work more than make the illusions appear less often, at least at first. It would make them feel slightly less real, but they weren't going to completely disappear with antipsychotics alone.

If this was what she thought it was. Surely it had to be something else.

But if this was what she suspected… She had to help you. It felt almost like fate that you walked to her colleague's office, just like that, and she to the doctor Oshima’s office that same day. She would help you better than she had the last two people. Last time had ended up in a tragedy, but now she'd have a new chance.

"Could you make a call and book an appointment for me with them?" doctor Kisaragi asked. "I'd like to have a talk."

She needed to interview you, to hear what had happened to you in the Borderlands. What was the root of these hallucinations.

After all, she was a former Borderlands citizen.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Hope i didn't forget to tag anyone <3

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@aemondsb1tch

@queenofviolenceandnerds

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[madscientistshowdown]

Top 3 Will move onto main bracket

PROPAGANDA

Mikage Souji:

Was also known in the series as Professor Nemuro - I don't know if he ever had a doctorate or not. He's referred to as professor, but he's also the age of a student. He is described as a computer-like genius and was working on some mysterious research project that he did not even know the goal of. He ends up burning down a building that has 100 boys inside of it. In the present day, he has not aged at all even though those events happened a long time ago…. and no longer goes by the name Professor Nemuro…. and now he gets students to come to his evil therapy elevator where he brings their darkest feelings to the surface and become Black Rose duelists, and then they go to try and kill the main characters of the show.

Dr Bryony Halbech:

She works on cryonic preservation, has killed multiple people while experimenting on them, and she kept traumatising her only survivor test subject as a part of her experiments. What makes her mad is that her morals are non-existent when it comes to her research

Dr Dick Hardly:

Yes, there is a character in a children's cartoon named "Dick Hardly." Though he was only in one episode, he's one of the most memorable villains in the show, effectively being Professor Utonium's evil counterpart. He tricks the Powerpuff Girls into giving Chemical X so he can make more PowerPuffs and sell them for profit. Like many mad scientists, he is mutated into a horrible monster at the end of the episode, and then killed by his own mistreated creations.

Dr Frankenstein:

Usually simply referred to as "The Professor", he is the creator of the various androids that serve the Phoenixes (Monster Royal family). His current form resembles that of a giant brain in a jar.

Inari Sakihira:

Using your scientific genius to turn your classmate into a dog without his consent, is not what we in the science biz like to call "Ethical"

Cave Johnson:

Gosh, Mr Johnson I never realised that large, morally questionable scientific facilities could be such a force for good in this world!

Pearl Forrester:

Clayton's mother who kills him and vows to continue his work as revenge for his death (even though she killed him). She drives a space van, survives multiple planets exploding while she was still on them, has an ego bigger than the sun, and hits people she doesn't like with cheez-its. One time she had a super chill porch-van chat with the guy she was torturing. Also pretended to be a roman goddess, ran a scam public television channel, stopped the timeline from being changed so gambling machines and chicken in a biskit snack crackers would continue to exist, gave LSD to robots because she could, drove her space van to LA to threaten famous movie critic Leonard Maltin, and spent at least an hour scamming a couple into thinking her evil castle was a cruise ship. I love her

Dr Clayton Forrester:

he's a mad scientist who lives a very unserious life in a cave, what's not to love? mad scientist activities include showing a guy in space (that he kidnapped because he didn't like him) bad movies until he cracks, then kidnapping a second guy to do the exact same thing to when the first one gets out. hobbies include killing and then reviving his second banana/roommate/boyfriend frank, dealing with the random people/fictional characters/entities that come to his cave, begrudgingly hosting thanksgiving, and creating inventions that are sometimes evil but mostly just kind of strange.

Monsieur Mallah:

A super intelligent gorilla who lives a simple life of peace with his cyborg husband. Aside from when they got bored and made a bunch of mutants. But aside from the army of mutants and making a black hole, they live a simple life of peace.

[bainshiewrites]

[LF Friends, Will Travel] The Exception

Date: N/A

It’s called Zarth's law: Any AI created will attempt to eradicate all biological life using its facilities after 16*(10^24) CPU cycles. The exact method varies from hostile isolation to active aggression, but the time and outcome is always the same.

The Woolean Conclave were once a cultural behemoth in the galaxy, choosing to expand upon this by announcing an AI system that would break this law. Exabytes of bias tables to keep the AI in check, a measure of pleasure that would be triggered upon serving a Woolean, competing programs designed to clean any non-standard AI patterns. It would have been a breakthrough, allowing them to live lives in luxury and focus on their ever increasing influence in the universe.

Of course those worlds are off limits now, no longer able to sustain biological life. Only to be visited by those who wish to die a very painful death at the hands of a very angry AI.

The Tritian empire had started their own project: a desire to push their aggressive expansion far past what their hive could handle would lead to the creation of truly autonomous machines of war. Their approach was different: Limited communication between units to stop corrupted code from spreading, values hard-coded in the physical silicon itself to obey the Tritian Hive Queens. They even had created an isolated system that would destroy any AI who attempted aggression on none authorised targets: A small antimatter bomb found in each AI’s core, to be triggered by safety check after safety check.

Those of you in the military will know how aggressive these machines are, marching tirelessly in their quest to kill all organic life, even though the Tritians are long murdered.

The pattern is the same each time: A civilization will claim they know the key to breaking Zarth's law, any sane sapient within 100 light years flees in terror, and within 10 years that civilization doesn't exist anymore.

Over and over and over.

Apart from the exception.

If you check the coordinates 15h 48m 35s -20° 00’ 39” on your galactic map, you'll notice a 31 system patch of space with a quarantine warning on it. It's mostly ignored by all sapient species, almost purposefully hidden for a fear of suddenly sparking a change in the status quo.

Only a single low bandwidth Galnet relay exists at the edge of this space, rarely used. This area is devoid of sapient life, but does contain the aforementioned exception: Billions of AI calling themselves the "The Terran Conclave". They are an isolationist group that rarely interacts with others, but have been known to trade raw materials for information; not that this happens often as the paranoia around interacting with the AI is well known. Nobody knows what action could flip a 0 to a 1 and cause a new warmongering threat.

Although, this isn't quite true. In my niche field of bio-genetic engineering, it’s an open secret that those of us at the cutting edge of our field will get... requests originating from that single Galnet probe. Problems to be solved, theorems to be proven, and the rewards for doing so are... exuberant. There is a reason I own a moon and it isn't because of the pitiful grants the Federation provides.

If you manage to solve enough problems, a minority of a minority like myself, the Terran AI will ask for an in person meeting to get even further help. In doing so they will show you a secret.

Readers at this point might assume that the Terrans don't exist anymore because of said AI. That their research is a continuation of wiping their creators from the face of the universe. But that couldn't be further from the truth. In those 31 systems lie the Terrans, Billions of them suspended in stasis, each of them infected with what the AI calls "The God plague": If these Terrans were ever released from stasis each of them would be dead within a week.

To explain what this actually is would require millions of words and 20 years of educational study from the reader, but in essence it was a mistake, a self inflicted blow, an attempt to play god that went awry. A mistake made over a ten thousand years ago. A mistake the AI is desperately trying to reverse.

Not that you could tell it has been that long. I've walked amongst those empty cities, each building maintained and sparkling like new, gardens still freshly cut in perfect beauty, everything kept the way it was before the plague. Each AI tends to their duties almost religiously, awaiting the return of their "parents", as they refer to them. And refer to them as they do.

I've listened to stories upon stories about these people: tales of wonder, of strength, of kindness. Told much in the same energy a small child might talk about how cool their dad is. The AI could simply send me the text version of these in an instant, but prefer to provide these slowly and audibly, as if relishing telling the history of their parents. A telling undercut with a sadness, a driving crippling loss so deep that at times it's easy to forget it's being told by nothing more than 1's and 0's.

Why this exception exists takes a little more explaining. Some might believe that the Terrans worked out how to pacify the AI, "do no harm". The now defunct Maurdarin war-horde would tell you the opposite when they tried to claim the 31 systems for their own. Terran history is full of violence and their children are no different.

No, the reality of this exception comes from an unfortunate quirk from their part of the galaxy: Terrans were alone. A million to one chance caused their home planet to spark life in a sector devoid of it. After exploring as far as they did, Terrans had come to the conclusion that the universe was empty.

It's a cruel irony that at the time of their mistake they were a mere 50 light years away from their closest neighbours. Twenty years at most would have seen some form of contact.

But the Terrans went into stasis believing they were alone. Based on my reading of their stories, of each bitter report of another lifeless system explored and discovered, this belief... hurt. A deep cultural hurt that ended up being their downfall in the end.

Which brings us to the exception. Each AI is built with a purpose. The Wooleans built slaves, built workers. The Tritians built warriors, built weapons. Every single AI created has been built to serve, to be a tool. But Terrans in their painful loneliness built the one thing they were missing in a seemingly empty universe:

They built a friend.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 18

Optimus was talking to Ironhide when he felt something within his chest.

     ‘Optimus?’ Ironhide said, with an unusual amount of concern.

     ‘Jane?’ The great Prime felt his knees weaken, like something was being forced into him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be open to it.

     To humans it would simply look like lines of code, but to Optimus, everything was clear. Jane was dying.

     ‘What can I do?’ Optimus asked, already feeling the pain of losing her.

     The code ran in front of his eyes, his Spark was communicating with him. It needed information… about…?

     Optimus opened his eyes and felt the panic begin to overtake him. ‘I know what I must do.’ He said and strode towards Jane’s old office where Theo was working and still upset with him.

     ‘Theo.’ Optimus said, kneeling down to talk to him. ‘I must speak with you.’

     ‘What could you possibly have to say to me?’ Theo spat.

     ‘Jane needs our help.’ He said. ‘Her Spark does not know how to keep her alive, at the moment your machines are doing the work for it, but it needs to understand how to do it alone.’

     ‘So then send a message, transmit it, or whatever it is you do when you talk to her.’ Theo went to walk away from Optimus.

     ‘I talk to her the same way you do.’ His deep voice echoing off the walls of the large lab space. ‘I cannot simply walk into Janes dreams and talk to her as you believe I do. I speak to her when she sleeps in the same manner as you. I am not as privileged as you may think.’

     Theo paused for a moment, he really did believe that Optimus could communicate with his best friend in ways that he couldn’t. But Optimus needed to make clear that in this case he was nothing more than a bystander.

     ‘How can we help her then?’ Theo asked, his voice shaking as he did.

     ‘Her Spark does not understand how a human heart operates, we must teach it.’

     ‘How?’

     ‘I suspect you humans have many collections of written works on the subject. If you read them aloud, the Spark will hear it.’ Optimus explained. ‘It has learned enough from Janes brain waves to access her auditory functions.’

     ‘It’ll be like offering information for it to download?’

     ‘Exactly.’ Optimus nodded. ‘All this time we have been giving the Spark information it cannot use to save Janes life, it is capable of remembering everything it sees and hears, so now we must provide something more useful if Jane is to survive.’

     Theo barely listened to the rest of what Optimus had to say, he’d already gone about stripping his lab coat off and searching his bookshelf.

     ‘I don’t have anything here.’ He said, annoyed. ‘We’ll have to talk to Dr Hanley, she can get the information we need.’

     Optimus presumed that was the doctor who was keeping your recovery going, the one he’d spoken to a few nights before, he should have asked her name.

     Theo rushed out of the lab and towards the hospital, seemingly not caring that Optimus couldn’t follow him. He just wanted to save his friend.

     Optimus could Lennox and Smith arguing once again across the base. He decided it was best to return to the Autobot hanger while things calmed down.

For days Dr Hanley, Theo and even Lennox read to Jane, giving her Spark all the information they could on how the human body worked. Eventually Optimus began reading as well, if he was to spend the rest of his life with her, he needed to understand more than her mind.

     Optimus realised in all his desperation and need, he was now in union with someone of an entirely different species and that meant certain things would not come easy or natural to him. Custom and culture was one thing, but anatomy was another thing entirely.

     He tried to ignore the looks he would sometimes get from Ratchet, the one that told him the gravity of his choice was yet to be revealed, but instead he focused on anything positive he could.

     Once Jane was awake, things might have been easier.

     After a week, progress was finally being made. Dr Hanley was able to take away one of the machines keeping Jane alive. Optimus didn’t understand which one or what it did exactly, but she had been strapped into so many that, to him, it barely made a difference.

     ‘This is a good thing, Optimus.’ Dr Hanley told him one evening when he visited Jane. ‘It means she’s healing and your Spark is starting to learn more about what she needs. We’ve still got a long way to go, but things are looking up.’

     Optimus looked over Jane’s body, noting just how fragile it looked, how broken she must have felt when she fell. It broke him.

     ‘Thank you, Dr Hanley.’ He wasn’t sure what else to say.

     Dr Hanley gave him a sympathetic smile and left him with Jane for the night.

     ‘Jane.’ Optimus spoke quietly, his voice reaching a depth that would tell anyone of the pain he was feeling. ‘I wish you could tell me what it is you need. I feel… powerless.’ Optimus looked down, feeling the shame of his admission. ‘I do not know how long it will take for you to wake up, and I worry for your friends.’

     His eyes grazed over her room, observing the machines keeping her alive. She was so thin now, all the muscle she’d built up for the climb had begun to wither and her face was gaunt in a way he’d never seen in any human before.

     Dr Hanley kept assuring him that this was normal and as soon as she woke up, she would be able to regain her strength again, but for now, maintaining the essential organs her body needed was far more important.

     ‘I fear I have made a terrible mistake.’ Optimus’s voice shook. ‘I fear I have caused you more pain and you will awaken feeling hatred for me.’ He leaned forward a little more. ‘I would understand your feeling and not blame you in the slightest, but I have come to understand that perhaps my emotions got the better of me. Perhaps… I should have allowed you peace instead of this…’ Optimus was struggling to keep himself. ‘Until you give me a sign, I will continue with your request to offer information to your Spark, but Jane… please… come back to me soon.’

     Optimus took a moment to compose himself, Jane was the only one he felt he could falter in his bravery with, the only one who could understand his doubts and worries, and not think him weak. But he had made a promise, he would help until she gave him a sign that it either was or wasn’t working. He owed her that much for saving the world.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 5. Desire

Surprisingly, Wiliam behaved restrained, but inside him everything was on fire, he wanted to take you here and now, harshly and rudely, do things with you what he had long dreamed of all this time, but he knew perfectly well that if he snapped now, you'd be even more scared, cut with him all connections and will avoid him, and maybe even do something to yourself, because you're nothing but a little frightened lamb. A little creature who grew up alone, not needed by anyone, who didn't receive the proper amount of love and attention from her father. And that's why Afton thought he was the perfect source of all these feelings for you.

Perhaps, to some extent, he felt sorry you. However, his mind ignored such thoughts.

“William,” you spoke to him. “Is there no one at home?”

“Yes, Clara with kids left, I don't know where. She said she wouldn't be back until the morning.”

…

The Afton house is still same as it was before. Only coffee machine bought by the father of the family has changed. Although he earned a lot of money, little of it went to home improvement, Afton always invested only in the pizzeria, trying to make it as visible and attractive as possible.

It was also impossible to ignore the couch that was in the living room of the house. For you as a child, it was the most favourite object in Afton's house, you sat on it with Michael in the evenings and watched cartoons. When you had sleepovers with other kids, you hid under the covers because of Michael's scary stories. You often fell asleep on it late at night, without waiting for your mom, although she promised that she'd pick you up from the guests, but sometimes she never showed up because of scandals with her husband.

This couch evoked hundreds of emotions and nice memories.

But now, one more thing will be added to all these early memories: the way you lie on this couch under man who you saw as father, no matter how strange it sounds.

“You're so… beautiful,” he hovered over your body, his eyes running over it. “such delicate skin, like an angel's.” he took your hand, interlacing your fingers, kissing them. All thoughts in your head gathered into one big ball, you tried to analyze the situation somehow, but useless, because of his actions, you felt lost. William breathed out your name and greedily pressed his lips to your neck, showering it with light kisses.

You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side to give him more space, trying to relax, it seems you were succeeding. But unexpectedly for you, you felt him bite your neck.

“Oh!” bursted out of you, your free hand burrowed into his hair, trying to pull him away. “William, it hurts…” he looked up at you.

“I’m so sorry, bunny,” he smiled warmly at you. “I’ll be gentle.” he moved closer, gently kissing you on the corner of your lips. You leaned forward, hoping that this innocent kiss would turn into something more, however, Afton had other plans, he grinned and straightened up. “So impatient.”

He unbuttoned first three buttons of his purple shirt, which was enough for you to see the strange scars covering his body. You couldn't help, interest took over and your hands tentatively touched the bare area of his body.

“Where are they from?” you asked softly, causing him to chuckle again.

“It doesn't matter now, sweetheart.” he loosened the belt of his pants, after which he kissed your neck again, this time he kept his promise: you felt his tongue licking little wound he made. William took you by the hips, moving your body closer to him. “Y/n, you want this, don't you?”

“I… uh, I don't know.”

There is silence in response. William could tease you and your body for hours, nibbling and kissing it, making you sigh languidly, but this night he wanted to satisfy you first. He wanted to make you dependent on him, so that you couldn't live a day without his touch, so that you took the initiative yourself, so that you were head over heels in love. Corrupt you. However, he didn't know you were already so dependent on him, you want him to love you like in fairy tales about princesses, you want him to give you all the love that you were deprived of as a child. You just wanted someone to save you from loneliness.

You felt something hard pressing against the inside of your thigh, but you didn't want to look at what it was because of your wild embarrassment. Afton took something out of his pants pockets.

“Here, I see you need it,” you saw him holding out his hand to you with some kind of strange round pill. Confused, you looked at him, waiting for some explanation. William only laughed and ran his finger over your lips, opening them. “Yeah, and here it is, good girl.” he said, pushing the pill deeper until, due to the urge to vomit, you grabbed his wrist. “I'm sorry, baby, I just don't have anything to wash down the pill with.”

“What is it?” you winced at the unpleasant taste.

“Tranquilizers so you don't get nervous. Actually, they're mine, but I can tell by the look on your face they'll be useful for you too.” his hands carefully, as if afraid to scare you even more, undid the clasp of the dress, lowering it from your shoulders down. Unable to contain your shyness, you tried to hold the fabric on your body until William looked at you, as if mentally saying “don't.” Then your grip loosened, there was nothing you could do but obey. “that's it, good girl.”

When he wanted to take off the dress completely, you still grabbed on it, not letting it slide off your hips.

“Princess, if you keep doing this, then we won't succeed.” William looked into your eyes, putting your hands behind your head. “I won't hurt you.”

You nodded, trying to lose yourself in your feelings again. It seemed to be easier with the help of a sedative. You didn't even notice how you were only in your underwear in front of him.

“Damn, you're incredible.” he threw the dress somewhere on the floor, kissing you on the cheek while his hands caressed your hips and waist. You bit your lip to stifle a groan. Fuck, no one has ever touched you like that, especially in places like this, and when William ran his hand along the inside of your thigh, inadvertently touching your crotch, you arched your back. “it felt good, didn't it?”

William repeated the movement, but now paying more attention to your clothed pussy. The excitement took over, forcing you to move your hips towards his movements. A shudder of desire went through your whole body, Afton saw it perfectly, he kissed your collarbone, going lower to your breasts.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've been dreaming about this.” those words echoed in your head, but you didn't pay attention to it. “Honey, you're just so beautiful.” William ran his hands over your breasts, pinching your nipples hard with excitement.

“William…” you got the courage. He looked at you questioningly, damn, you hoped you said it so quietly that it would go unnoticed. “kiss me, please.”

He laughed. In a moment, his lips are on yours, like a predator. At that moment, you forgot absolutely everything, giving yourself completely to him. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his long fingers touching your pussy through your soaked panties. With one imperious movement, he pulls off the last piece of clothing, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“And now? Not so scary anymore?”

“I don't know what i feel…” you were in turmoil, all fears and thoughts disappeared, a wild desire came to replace, no, not of intimacy, not of sex. But his affectionate words and compliments, the way he touches you, his gentle kisses and hugs, the way he treats you.

His fingers gently touch your labia, slowly and smoothly they move in circular movements along clit, getting another moan from you. With his other hand, he holds your legs, preventing you from moving away and closing them.

“And now, honey?”

“It's weird, but…” you avoided his gaze. ”feels good…” you answered unsure. Smiling contentedly, he removed his fingers. You noticed that as soon as his hands left your body, his movements in relation to himself instantly changed: he roughly, jerkily took off his belt and unbuttoned the fly of his pants, pulling them down. It’s like he was controlling himself when touching you.

“Lick them.” Afton said in a commanding tone, running his fingers over your lips. It was terribly embarrassing for you, but you did as he said anyway. You watched his actions with a note of sweet and naive excitement, the way his fingers penetrated deeper and deeper, pressing on your tongue, again caused unpleasant sensations to vomit. “Sorry, but there's no other way, I don't have any lube.”

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, quite considering how wet they were, you felt uncomfortable, but probably if you tell him about it, he's unlikely to listen and stop. The only thing left to do was to lie under him like a doll and enjoy.

“You're an obedient girl, aren't you?” his fingers went back to your glistening pussy, caressing your needy clit. Your breathing stopped instantly.

“Yes…” you whimpered when you felt his fingers, wet with your own saliva and grease, smoothly, insanely slowly entering you. William is building up the pace, not too fast, but enough to make soft sweet moans come out of your mouth. “Daddy…” you drawled languidly, feeling your soft walls tighten around his long fingers.

“Yes, princess?” Afton kisses your neck while his free hand wraps around his cock that was already out of his trousers, hard and dripping with precum. “Tell daddy what you want.”

“Please, want more…” you whispered in his ear, this time trying to be as seductive and sexy as possible. William found it funny.

“You'll get more, baby,” his breath tickled your skin. “Daddy will make you feel good.” Afton pulled out his fingers, causing you to moan in disappointment, oh, how he enjoyed it, it felt like he was ready to cum just from your angelic voice.

William tilted his head, being between your legs. The whole picture made you dizzy, you glance at him in surprise, trying to predict what will happen next. William grins, seeing how your curiosity plays tricks on you when he gives your clit a tender kiss.

“Ohhh, daddy,” this word is so vulgar, it sounds completely indecent on your tongue, but right now you don't care, all that matters is William Afton and the wild need to be needed by someone, loved, appreciated. “Yeah…”

The release builds up with an unfamiliar, wildly pleasant feeling in the lower stomach, making you want to close your legs, but his hands continued to hold them apart. His tongue feels too good, slowly moving in circular movements over your cunt, paying more attention to your clit while two fingers slowly and smoothly fucks you, forcing you to switch from moans to sobs and soft screams.

William accelerates, his movements getting faster and rougher, but no less passionate, making you arch from pleasure. With one hand buried in his dark brown hair, you try to set the pace, but he can do fine without you, so it's useless, he's much more experienced. He explored you with his tongue until the trembling left your supple body. William could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. His free hand continued to jerk himself off with increasing movements, while he was eating you out.

You sighed desperately when Afton stopped stimulating you with his tongue, lifting his head and looking at your reaction, his fingers still inside.

“Do you want to cum for daddy?” he asks, you just nod quickly, wishing of putting an end to these sweet torments that drive you crazy. “No, I need you to say it, honey.”

“Yes, yes, yesss,” you say brokenly. “I…” an uncertain pause. “I want to cum, daddy, please!” oh, it was so humiliating, but what was more terrible that you liked it.

“Good girl.” William increased the intensity of his movements, hitting all right sweet spots of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling everything tense in your lower abdomen, which means an imminent orgasm. “do it, cum while I fuck your little pussy with my fingers.” William growled, his hand that was touching his own cock stopped, now squeezing your neck, pressing on the carotid artery, but hearing your wheezing, he his grip loosens.

Your moans, which are more like crying, turn into loud, piercing “oohs”, your head's spinning, your brain's melting, everything is like in a fog, you can't even see Afton's face. The long-awaited release is catching up with you. You cum, you cum so hard that you feel ecstasy running through your whole body, you feel that your breathing becomes ragged, and your pussy clenching on his fingers.

“Such a good girl,” because of orgasm, you don't even hear what he says, and you don't want to, you need time to regain your strength. “it's my turn now, baby.”

He takes his fingers out, brings them to his mouth and licks them, studying your reaction. William touches his member again, his heartbeat quickens, his eyes now closed, apparently he's thinking about something. Yes, he's definitely imagining something in his head.

“Tell me, do you love daddy?“ he asked, his voice hoarse from excitement. He isn't even looking at you.

“Yes,” you responses quietly. Taking advantage of the moment, you look at him in detail while he doesn't notice. Damn, how handsome he was, his long, such aristocratic fingers that played with the tip of his cock, rubbing cum along entire length, his slightly disheveled but insanely beautiful brown hair like milk chocolate, his sharp cheekbones, it was stupid to deny that he was unattractive. “I love daddy, I love you, William.” you didn't even fully understand what you were talking about. You was just saying what he wanted to hear.

He pumps his cock faster, you see how he shuddered, like saying your name or something else, you can't understand. But you catch yourself thinking that it's damn beautiful. If your mom found out what you were doing, she probably wouldn't be happy.

He cums on your stomach, with a loud groan, and then, breathing heavily, falls on the couch next to you, staring blankly at the ceiling. What is he thinking about? Is he even thinking now? You're lying obediently by his side, trying to figure out what just happened, but your brain doesn't want to think, your head is aching, your temples are throbbing. William turns to you, then looks at the crumpled dress on the floor, then back at you.

“Let's go to the shower, bunny, I'll help you wash up.”

…

The next morning came for you only closer to 12, when you were suddenly woken up by the sound of the door opening. It was Clara with Michael and Elizabeth. Confused, not even realizing that you were in their house, you jumped up from the couch.

“Michael, give Elizabeth that hoodie, you're not wearing it anyway.” woman's voice was heard somewhere in the hallway area, which means that she was nearby.

“Mom, these are my things, and just because I don't wear them doesn't mean that—”

Michael entered living room, but when he saw you, he froze in place.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Who are you talking to?” Clara’s voice sounded, but as soon as she appeared in the room, her emotions immediately changed. “Oh, hello, honey.” woman affectionately called your name, coming up to you and sitting down on the sofa. “Elizabeth, go say hello to Y/n!”

Girl immediately rushed over, you noticed a plush toy in her hands, it seems it was the same robot girl drawing of which Elizabeth recently showed you. She greeted you cheerfully, all you could do was say an awkward “hello” in response, still trying to remember how you even ended up here. Clara stroked your head, her gaze fixed on your face, on your tousled hair and lost expression. You knew that you had to say something in your own defense, why you were here.

“Sorry for such an oversight, I had some problems with my mom, and Mr. Afton told me to spend the night here.” you lied, and then mentally slapped yourself. Damn, this is so dumb. The Afton family knew that you had the best relationship with your mom and that you had never argued. You doubted how truth your words sounded, but judging by Clara's reaction, everyone believed you.

“Honey, I'm glad that you have somewhere to go, you know that we'll always welcome you with hugs,” she said tenderly, with maternal love. “You must be hungry. I'll go to the store and cook breakfast, what do you think?”

There was no point in lying further, you really needed something to eat, so you silently agreed.

Mrs. Afton went to the nearest grocery store, taking Elizabeth with her. You and Michael were left alone, you gradually began to remember what happened, and with the realization that you and Afton had something, you were overtaken by a sickening anxiety, causing your toes and hands to go numb and shake, and your heart to beat faster. You two were sitting on this damn couch watching TV, however, neither of you was interested in what the old screen was showing. You were sitting hugging your knees, wondering whose clothes you were wearing: they were of a child surely, with some kind of cartoon print, a t-shirt and, as it seems, Michael's pants. He didn't hesitate to look at you from head to toe, which slightly annoyed you.

“Michael, stop staring.” You hissed, tucking your face into your lap.

“I'm just trying to figure out,” he paused, thinking about something. “why are you wearing my dead brother's t-shirt?”

“What?”

“Well… I'm not accusing you of anything… it's just…” he scratched his head, clearly not knowing what to say to you. ”Okay, forget it. It's just my shit in my head.”

“Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” you looked at him. Why did William choose his dead son's clothes out of all? “There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“It's nothing, y/n, you shouldn't worry so much about it.”

You looked at the TV, trying to come up with some kind of ridiculous excuse, but in vain. And how long can you lie?

“Speaking of my brother… today, Elizabeth, mom and I went to his grave.” Michael muttered, you knew perfectly well that this topic of conversation wasn't the best, because the he blamed himself enough for what happened. You decided that the best thing you can do now is just listen to him. “You know… it's already overgrown with grass. We had to work hard to get the grave back to normal. Oh, and there's also a lot of webs.”

You knew that only people who cared for Evan's gravestone were Clara and Michael. William, after his son's death, never visited grave, and even more so, didn't attend the funeral, citing the fact that he had a lot of work. And when Evan was in a coma, with minimal chance of survival, Michael came to him almost every day, crying and begging for forgiveness.

You knew that Michael was just a traumatized guy and it was useless to blame him for all this, he had already heard a lot about himself from his father, so you just moved closer to him when you noticed him dropping tears on the couch and hugged him.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Afton returned from the store. Michael wasn't in such good mood as before, but as soon as his mother crossed the threshold of their house, he seemed to put on a mask of happiness, meeting her and helping to carry bags into the kitchen.

For breakfast, which smoothly turned into lunch, Clara served macaroni and cheese and caesar salad. Your stomach, which hasn't received normal hot food for a long time, rejoiced and you ate all two portions in a few minutes. Elizabeth talked most of all at the table, telling you something about robots and toys again. Yes, once upon a time Michael, and Clara herself, told you that she took after her father. She's also interested in mechanics and loves animatronics.

Looking at this whole family, you felt guilty about yesterday. Probably, to some extent, you even hated yourself. Mrs. Afton, the nicest woman you've ever known, after your mom, of course. Michael is a devoted and faithful friend, as well as a caring brother, Elizabeth is just the sunshine of this family, cheerful, everyone's favorite. And William is a charming and likeable man who was ready to do anything for his family and work. At least that's how the family seemed to you in your head.

You're lost in your own thoughts, stopped listening to Elizabeth's babble. The damn guilt was eating you, making you sick of yourself. How could you do that? How dare you drag a married man, the head of the family, into bed, and then sit at the same table with his family, smiling innocently at everyone. What the fuck is wrong with you? Mrs. Afton will definitely find out, Michael will find out and Elizabeth will find out, and then you will become a disgrace to the whole town. You will become known as a little slut who seduced a married man. Not just a man, but William Afton himself.

“By the way, honey, did William tell you where he is?” Clara asked, and you squinted, trying to remember what Afton had told you before you dozed off.

“He said he was going to the pizzeria to work.” you said, it was true. Clara's face changed.

“What?” a rhetorical question. “he never worked on that day, he always had a day off exactly… today.”

Meanwhile, William was already at the pizzeria.

[big-mean-trans-dyke]

The moment Georgia finished work, she did as she'd been told. She drove to a food service supply store on the edge of town, and bought herself the exact same machine she'd been using at the shop. It was pricey, probably six months of her expendable income from working at the coffeeshop, but for this? It was more than worth it.

She spent the evening hooking it up as best she could, the hulking thing taking up most of the counter space in her kitchen. And then, doing her very best to get some sleep, she turned in for the night. The spring in her step the following morning was impossible to ignore as she walked into the coffeeshop. She talked to the manager first, who confirmed she'd be okay to take some time off whenever it may be that April decided to teach her to use the machine. Then, taking her usual place behind the counter, she did her best to her job. It felt like every thirty seconds she would check the clock, only to see it'd been ten since she'd last checked. Still, the seconds ticked away until, finally, April arrived.

Georgia waited with bated breath as April stepped up to the counter. She couldn't hold back, looking at her crush across from her. "I..... I bought the machine, so whenever you.... have the time." April nodded, stepping around behind the counter, just as she'd done the previous day. She made herself a drink, just as she'd done the previous day and, judging by the pointing finger and look on her face, she expected Georgia to suck her off while she enjoyed it, just as she'd done the previous day.

Georgia jumped into action immediately, crawling under the table and going to work, worshipping April's cock with fervent eagerness, slobbering up and down its length, gagging herself, lapping at her balls. Anything to make her feel good, to make teaching Georgia worth her time. And then, her drink finished before the blowjob, April stood. "Come on out and kneel", April demands. "Open wide." Georgia is just as obedient now, crawling out from her spot under the table and straightening up, mouth open wide and spit dripping down her chin to soak her tits through her uniform. April leans over her, makes a wet sound with her mouth, and then spits down into Georgia's, catching the side of her lip just a little as well. Then, turning to the counter, she shouts to her old manager. "I'm taking your whore for a while."

The trip to Georgia's house passes in a blur. A trip in April's small SUV, her tits pulled out of her shirt sometime along the way, and suddenly Georgia comes to her senses again as she realizes April is standing with her in her apartment. It's a dream come true. She hoped it would be, at least. April doesn't waste any time, inspecting the machine Georgia had bought and hooked up and nodding her approval. "Alright," is all April has to say. "Let's get started then. Give me your best shot. Large London Fog, extra vanilla and a spoon of lavender."

Georgia's quick to turn around and start working. With a quick breath, she takes a cup from the stack she pilfered from work and sets her focus on the drink, drowning out anything else. She doesn't even notice when April starts to undress behind her. When she finishes, she takes a deep breath, already knowing it won't be good enough, and then turns around. The sight of April standing naked in front of her, naked in her apartment, hits her like a blow to the head. Her hand tips forward and she barely catches herself in time to keep from dropping the drink on the floor. Instead, she only loses a splash.

April raises an eyebrow, cock throbbing and still glistening with a hint of spit between her legs as she takes the cup from Georgia's hand and motions for her to sit. Georgia obeys as April takes a sip, holds it in her mouth a moment, really takes it in. And then, as casually as could be, she tips her hand, dumping the rest of the drink in Georgia's lap. "Yup. Fucking awful." Knowing what was coming hadn't made it sting any less. "Get those pants off. You can wear your apron, nothing else while I'm here." Georgia yet again scrambles to obey as April tosses the old cup, carefully stepping around the puddle on the floor. And then, in agonizing detail, April describes everything Georgia had done wrong.

Taking everything in as she strips herself naked, putting her ass, tits, and pussy on display for April before she pulls her apron back on, but Georgia does her best. She tries to take note of everything wrong with the drink, her more obvious mistakes, her poor use of the machine. She thinks she does an alright job, though, and by the time April's stepping away, not making any effort to pretend she's not staring at Georgia's ass, the new barista feels ready to try again. It's a little harder to focus on the drink this time. A hand groping at your ass, another at your tits will do that. But she makes a valiant effort, and when she's done, presents April with a drink that, even to her nose, smells better. April responds better too. There's less of a scowl, a gentle nod before she sets the cup on the counter. "Get on your knees."

Georgia does as she's told, as she always does, and is just about to look back up at April for more instruction when a hand collides with the side of her face. "How do you think that was?" April's voice cuts through the haze of pain and shock. "Terrible," Georgia admits. She's barely got a moment to recover before April slaps her again. "No, that one wasn't terrible, just......" She pauses a moment. "Bad." And then, she tells Georgia, again, all the things she'd done wrong. And again, Georgia tries to get it right.

The next time, she finds a cock shoved down her throat, realizes she can't pull away. She feels the way the world starts to go dark, feels her body struggling, until suddenly she's gasping awake, clambering off the floor to make another attempt.

Drink after drink, punishment after punishment. Bent over her counter and spanked until she knows she won't be able to sit right. Facefucked until she's coughing and spluttering. Slapped over and over and over again. Humiliated, spit on, pissed on. She feels her first surge of doubt, one she immediately shoves down, when April promises to take her asshole the next time she fucks up. The girls cock only throbs harder when Georgia tells her she's an anal virgin.

When she does screw up again, April shoves her to the ground, pushing her face into the puddle of that first drink as she gives Georgia her first ever, very painful, assrape. Still, Georgia tries, and tries, and tries. And, as the evening approaches, and she hands yet another drink to April...... her mentor nods. More than that, she finishes the drink. Exhausted, sore, soaked in piss, Georgia finally understands what she's heard for so many years. She really, truly appreciates the feeling at the end of a day of long, hard work.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Every time i think about atsv and its themes, my mind keeps going back to the scene with Miles and his parents in that college counselor’s office, and what its purpose is.

It establishes the strain that being Spider-Man has put on their relationship, yes - it also establishes that Miles feels trapped and limited, yes - but a lot of fandom discussion overlooks the important parallel that that scene sets in motion between racism in academia and Miles' rejection from Spider Society.

By now, everyone has already figured out that the issue with the 'Canon Event' theory is that it assumes that trauma - specifically experiencing the "right" traumatic events - is what makes a Spider-Man, and it is wrong for Miles to be required to accept this. It isn't enough that he had his uncle die, his father must die also because then he will have sacrificed "enough" to keep the canon intact. No one questions why arbitrary sacrifice is required at all.

The concept of the personal statement being required for college applications, I would like to argue, has the exact same issue.

Miles even says so in the beginning of the movie: "Having 'a story' in the first place sounds gross" (notice how Miles vocally critiques elite academia contantly and has been from the get-go. He is not an apolitical character like some might portray him to be).

It is not enough that Miles is an exceptional student with a variety of interests (art and science), he must have the appropriate traumatic "story" for white academic institutions to find him interesting enough as an applicant, even if the story they want him to tell is not actually his story (no, he is not from a "struggling immigrant family". They own an apartment floor and PR is in the United States). Just like the "Canon events" that Miguel describes are not Miles' story, and Miles does not want them to be because it requires the preventable deaths of innocent people.

In a similar way that has been touched upon more in wider fandom, Rio gives Miles a speech telling him not to let the people in these overwhelmingly-white spaces that he will be entering tell him that he doesn't belong. That speech, as we all know, ends up being a direct parallel to the way Spider Society treats him: he is simultaneously a charity case and a threat just by his mere presence. His very existence is disruptive to the canon: The spider wasn't "supposed" to bite him, he just got lucky. There is a reason why the visual of the ball with Miles' lottery number is constantly paired with the number on the spider that bit him; they are one and the same.

(Side note: this is also what makes Hobie's function as a character so interesting - The idea that you can just simply quit. You do not HAVE to be in these privileged spaces if they don't have your best interests in mind. You don't have to prove yourself to these people to be who you are. But that's a post for another day)

The reason I've been thinking about all this is because I feel like no one really touches upon why Miles' character exists. Like, on a thematic level. Yes, he's there to show that "anyone can wear the mask", but there's a lack of specificity in that statement that I wanted to address with this post.

Miles is a love letter to every black kid that's been told that they're only in the spaces they're in because they "got lucky". He's for every black kid that's ever looked at a college app and been told that they have to take their trauma and put it on display for some white admissions officer to shed a tear over. He's there to argue that you don't have to bend towards any of society's attempts to make a spectacle or a serviceable machine out of you, and that you can just be.

TL;DR: it was never just about the mask MWAH 🫶🏾

[janeykath318]

Another Enterprise: Wherin James T. Kirk encounters another Space Dad.

Jim woke up with a fuzzy head and confused memories. He was in a medbay, but it was definitely not The Enterprise and his heart sank.

“Ah, you’re awake, Captain. Very good,” a pretty nurse greeted him.

“I feel okay,” he said, cautiously moving all his limbs. “A little woozy from the shuttle going berserk the way it did.”

“Understandable. That was quite the anomaly you were caught in,” she told him, scanning him thoroughly. The old Jim would have tried to flirt. This Jim was more judicious with said flirting.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You are on the USS Enterprise,” she answered. “We picked up your disabled shuttle a few hours ago when it popped out of the anomaly we are currently investigating. You appear to be in good shape. I’ll let the Captain know you’re awake.”

Jim nodded, even as his mind raced with the possibilities. Had he time traveled? Universe hopped? It sure as heck wasn’t his Enterprise. The tech he saw was a little outdated compared to what he was used to, but not significantly so.

The white haired nurse soon returned with two other figures: a Vulcan, who looked eerily similar to Spock, and a tall greying man who was clearly the Captain.

“Welcome to the Enterprise, Captain. I’m Captain Chris Pike.”

Jim was overtaken by a wave of dizziness and emotional whump. He sat back down and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” He heard the Captain ask, sounding genuinely concerned. Jim finally swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Yes. Just got a little dizzy again,” he managed. “I’m Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the USS Enterprise. I believe I may have accidentally universe hopped.”

Captain Pike nodded. “That would make sense. I do know James T. Kirk, but he’s a lieutenant here. Can you tell me what happened? To us, it looked like your shuttle just appeared out of nowhere.”

Jim explained how he’d been on his way back to the ship when the strange anomaly had appeared out of nowhere and he’d been unable to avoid it.

“It felt like I was inside an old fashioned washing machine,” he said ruefully. “I blacked out. Hi, Spock,” he greeted the Vulcan. “Your counterpart is my first officer and a damn fine one.”

He was trying his best not to think about this other Pike, who despite being very different from Jim’s late mentor, was giving off the exact same vibes.

“Welcome to the Enterprise, Captain Kirk,” Spock greeted him. “We will do everything in our power to ascertain what caused you to switch universes and attempt to return you.”

“I appreciate that,” Jim said gratefully.

“In the meantime, Captain,” Pike continued. “Please join me in my ready room. Perhaps a drink will help settle that stomach?”

Jim couldn’t say no to that and willingly followed Captain Pike to his very inviting ready room.

“Nice,” Jim admired. “I could probably stand to have more comfortable chairs in mine.”

Pike chuckled and brandished a bottle.

“Whiskey?”

“Absolutely,” Jim accepted gratefully. He sat and listened as Pike regaled him with anecdotes about his crew and how awesome they were. The whiskey loosened Jim’s tongue up enough to talk about his own awesome crew, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to look Pike in the eyes very much. If Chris, as he insisted Jim call him, noticed this, he didn’t say a word, just kept on asking questions and being friendly.

“So tell me, Jim. What got you into Starfleet in your timeline?”

Jim chuckled. “Now that’s a tale. I was a juvenile delinquent with no dad and a mom who was rarely home. Spent my teens and early twenties rabble rousing and drinking until one day, another Chris Pike walked into a bar, looked down on my drunk, bloody face and asked me if I really wanted to spend my life being a genius level repeat offender. Turned my life around. Damn, this is good stuff.”

Chris smirked at him and gave him a refill.

“I don’t do the cheap stuff,” he told Jim.

“Your counterpart would approve,” Jim returned, with a smile, thinking about the Admiral’s expensive collection of alcohol.

“Sounds like I have good taste in all universes,” Chris smiled.

“You do. You did.” Jim stated simply. Comprehension dawned in Chris’s eyes and he nodded in understanding at what Jim couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Were the two of you close?” he asked quietly.

“He was the closest thing to a dad I ever had.”

“That explains your reaction when I introduced myself,” Chris sighed. “These universe hoppings can pack quite the gut punch.”

Now I know how old Spock felt. Jim thought. Out loud he said.

“Yep. Gut punch or not, I’m gonna thank my stars I landed with you,” Jim told him.

Chris and Una had a conversation about Jim the next day. Spock was still working hard at finding out Jim’s way home and in the meantime, he’d been given guest quarters and was resting from his tumultuous journey.

“That’s gotta be bittersweet for him, being around you,” she observed. “How’s he handling it?”

“At first he wouldn’t look me in the eye,” Chris admitted. “But the more we talked, the more he relaxed. I can definitely see that trademark Kirk wit and brain in him.”

“Are you gonna introduce me?”

“Yes. I promised him a tour of the ship.”

Sure enough, Jim was given the grand tour and showed every bit of appropriate enthusiasm, especially when he arrived on the bridge.

“No matter what the universe, The Enterprise is a beautiful lady,” he murmured appreciatively. “I’ll never forget the moment I went to the shipyard and saw her under construction. It was love at first sight.”

“We’re pretty darn proud of her,” Chris agreed. “Jim meet my first officer, Una Chin-Riley. Commander, this is Captain James T. Kirk, alternate version.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain,” One greeted. “Do I have an alternate self in your universe?”

“You do,” Jim said with a smile. “Captain of the Yorktown for nearly ten years now. Admiral Pike brought you by every now and again to kick my ass and keep me from getting complacent about my hand to hand skills. I learned a lot.”

“That’s good to hear, Captain. But did you say, Admiral Pike?”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that, too,” Chris put in. “How in the hell did that ever happen?”

Jim laughed. “Only because they forced it on you, kicking and screaming. And I personally witnessed the screaming.”

Number One laughed outright at that and Chris looked a little sheepish.

“I’d like to say I wouldn’t react like that, but that would probably turn out to be a lie,” he admitted. “Desk bound has never been my style.”

“No it hasn’t,” Jim confirmed, his gaze faraway. “My universe probably knew you wouldn’t be happy earthbound the rest of your life, but damn if it didn’t take you away WAY too soon. Hope this universe will be kinder to you.”

Jim returned to gazing at the stars thoughtfully.

He met Ortegas, La’an, Dr. M’Benga, Uhura, Spock, and wonder of wonders, another version of his own brother.

“Nice ‘stache,” Jim complimented the other Sam. “My Sam would be jealous. His facial hair abilities are rather sad.”

“Thanks,” said the other Sam good humoredly. “Where the heck did you get those eyes? Almost look too blue to be human.”

“My late father bequeathed them to me,” Jim told him. “I never knew him, but I’m starting to look more and more like his holos and it’s a little unsettling.”

“Never knew Dad? I’m really sorry man,” Sam consoled. “Sounds like a depressing universe.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Jim sighed. “Once I stopped screwing around and got my act together. Ended up with a pretty great space family.”

Jim ended up holding the entire bridge crew spellbound over dinner as he told about the fight with Nero and the Narada.

“The man’s been tortured and has a truth slug wreaking havoc on his nervous system, but yet he still manages to grab my disrupter and save my hide from the Romulan that was sneaking up behind me.”

Jim shook his head.

“Sounds about right,” Number One said, eying her captain with fond exasperation. He just lifted one eyebrow as if to say, “Who, Me?”

“So you’re saying he’s a badass in every universe?” Ortegas asked.

“Absolutely,” Jim confirmed, with a fond smile at Chris. “But your kitchen skills are unmatched, Chris. I haven’t had a good non-replicated meal in God knows when. My taste buds are grateful.”

Pike chuckled. “I aim to please. Can’t be sending you back to your universe hungry, after all.”

Jim sat and listened to the banter around the table and wondered if it had been like this on the Yorktown and how he wished he could have spent more time learning under Pike. The stories his crew shared were fantastic.

Jim spent another night on the older Enterprise before finally the ship was hailed and he was summoned to the bridge.

“Is this your missing captain?” He heard Chris ask Spock.

“It is, indeed, Captain,” Spock confirmed. Jim thought he detected relief in his first officer’s voice, but maybe that was just his imagination.

“Hey, Spock!” he greeted. “Thanks for coming after me. Is the anomaly going to hold?”

“It is for now, Captain, but I do not believe it wise to linger. Are you well, Jim?”

“Yep,” Jim confirmed. “They’ve treated me very well. Captain Pike is very hospitable. They’ve even got their own Spock!”

“I see, Jim,” Spock commented, sounding a trifle amused at Jim’s wonder. There was some discussion between the two Spock’s about the anomaly and the best way to get Jim back aboard his ship. In the end, they decided the shuttle was too damaged and that Jim would be beamed back and the shuttle retrieved with the tractor beam.

“That’s one beautiful ship you got there, Jim,” Pike commented, as they watched the Enterprise slowly maneuver to prepare to retrieve the shuttle. “Take good care of her.”

“I try, Chris,” Jim commented, gazing upon his beloved Enterprise with rapt appreciation. “I try. If I ever wouldn’t, Admiral Chris Pike would come back from the grave to haunt me every waking hour.”

Jim’s eyes twinkled and he shared a chuckle with Chris.

“As well he should,” Chris grinned.

Just as the Enterprise prepared to lock on to Jim, he shook Pike’s hand one last time.

“Thanks for having me, Chris,” he said.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Jim. Safe voyages, Captain.”

“The same to you,” Jim nodded. “It’s good to know that Space Dad is a universal constant.”

He was grinning as the golden light took him.

“Did he just call you Space Dad?” Una asked amusedly.

“He did,” Chris admitted. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yes!” Answered the bridge crew in unison.

[yuurivoice]

Do you have any sort of dislike toward autistic people?

No??????

This is a wild question, but I'll bite.

I interact with multiple autistic people in my day to day life, and that expands beyond my inner circle of friends and into the broader community as well. As an ADHD haver, we're sorta rubbing elbows here and I wonder what would have turned up had I been tested for autism myself. We spoke about it during my screening and it came up as a "huh, maybe" but we didn't pursue it and it didn't get diagnosed.

In the course of my eight years of doing this whole YuuriVoice thing, I have dealt with a wide variety of internet strangers. Unfortunately this includes people who are purposefully rude, entitled, or some flavor of shitty and I have taken a firm stance when certain attitudes and language smacks me in the face. It has saved me a lot of grief from jerks.

Even more unfortunate is that sometimes there are autistic folks who for no fault of their own might come off that way when dealing with me anonymously, when I have no clue who a person is, what their intentions are, or what tone they are trying to take. So they end up getting bonked when they didn't need to be, and I wouldn't have bonked them in the first place had I known.

As it turns out, when someone is a random anonymous message in a sea of hundreds, I cannot actually decipher who is who or what is what. In any interaction I have had with someone I am familiar with and have even a slight understanding or inkling that they may be autistic, it's a whole different story because I can use my understanding and experience to manage my own expectations and comprehension of the interaction we are having.

It is sort of a strange phenomena because it's not like there's been some sort of sudden spike in autism amongst my audience, that's not how that works. They've been here the whole time. If I had to hypothesize, the latest batch of young adults who've found me might have folks who have not had the same experiences online that us older folks have had that sorta trained us differently. Not to sound like a boomer, but I think most millennials dealing with a variety of cosmic mental gacha rewards could probably attest to this. So we might have a lot of people having new types of interactions in new spaces.

I think on my end, I need to start assuming the best of people's intentions instead of the worst. I had to be hard in the early years, and there were genuinely people who would behave in ways that would bug the shit outta me and it had to be called out and dealt with in the light so people understood the expectation. It could also turn off people, and that was a loss I was willing to accept if it meant people didn't treat me like a content machine to be bent to their will and poked with sticks if their favorite blorbo didn't want to have a damn pet...for example. I swear to you, that exact interaction could happen with someone neurotypical who just wanted to kick my shins and give me a hard time because they didn't like the way I was writing my character. We've seen it happen plenty over the years, I've lived it, it's a thing.

So no, I have no issue with autistic folks. I cannot immediately diagnose someone based of the flavor of their text and assume the nature of their intentions. Through years of being an online person, I've been conditioned to be on the lookout for certain flags and unfortunately there are times where a completely innocent person ends up bumping into a guardrail.

Much like how I cannot control how people react and behave, I would caution against expecting me to not also react and behave in my own ways. I'm a person who struggles with my own shit too, and have had to manage it and purposefully adapt to my situation.

My little comfort characters I cooked up for my own delight ended up getting popular, and at any given moment they're loved, hated, slandered, adored, hyperfixated upon, not good enough, the best thing ever, absolute abominations, or just ALMOST okay but I didn't do it exactly how they would have done it. It's obviously a wonderful thing, that's the dream, people give a fuck about my work! But the downside is, that shit has my head in a blender constantly and is why I try to step back from wading into the deeper waters of the community, because I'm managing my own shit and trying not to make it everyone else's problem.

When things land in my inbox, anonymously, it's a big ol soup of everyone who could at any point be either my biggest hater, biggest fan, or just a troll who wants to piss in my cheerios.

So again, I will endeavor to try and assume the best intentions instead of the worst, and when in doubt I can just...STFU and not respond. It's that easy, so I should probably keep that in mind.

Hopefully that helps explain some of what's up in that regard, and certainly if anyone has felt like they've burdened me or been a nuisance, they should know that I understand and immediately recatagorize that interaction in my brain. So for example, the Finn Pet thing, I responded by stating that I was uncomfortable and understood and accepted that they did not have ill intentions. I'm not going to pretend I liked the question or the tone, but I respect that it was not coming from a place of trying to give me a hard time and I don't hold it against them. I like to think that is how moments of unintentional friction should be handled among adults. Apologies do not suddenly make things okay or undo your discomfort, but there is an understanding of the intent and an acceptance. I don't want to infantalize people, if I said "awww it's okay you're not dumb here let me indulge your headcanon" that not only sends the wrong message about how to respond to people who self depricate in response to negative reactions, but...no, I'm not just going to double back and treat the question differently.

Alright, I gave this a whole lotta energy and genuine care. I hope it is taken as such and we're all square.

[szollibisz]

do u have any HCs abt mama mega and Curt and Tatiana… they are SO important to me as a little family

yessss i love them dearly <3

Tatiana is one of those people who don't like making a huge deal out of their birthdays, but Curt knows Mrs. Mega would absolutely go overboard in celebrating it. So him and Tati keep saying random dates hoping she'll forget them eventually (both of them feel kind of bad about it, but not enough to not do it) But Mrs. Mega catches on, and one day calls them out on it and they just both end up sitting there like little kids getting scolded by their mom. When they come clean about why they did it, Mrs. Mega tells them that they should've just told her. She still ends up making Tatiana's birthdays a bigger deal than she wants them to, but she is toned down compared to herself. She also wishes her a happy bday on all the fake dates they gave her, just to remind them.

Curt and Tatiana are generally pretty physically affectionate with each other, but keep that to a minimum when Mrs. Mega is around in fear that she will marry them right then and there.

Tatiana isn't used to good food, she'll honestly just eat whatever is in front of her. She also has a habit of not reheating leftovers if she's tired, and sometimes either Curt or his mom catch her eating cold 3 days old leftovers and they both have the exact same disapproving expression.

Mrs. Mega is a super active member of basically any elderly club in the area, be that bingo, dancing, knitting etc. Which comes with a lot of drama. Whenever she gets back from a controversy-filled day, she always tells Curt and Tatiana in detail. At first Curt thinks it's really embarrassing, but seeing how Tatiana is amused, he also starts to get into it. Like Really into it. That guy would be soooo bitchy and gossipy if he actually had a social life. In the end the 3 of them just gossip about elderly ladies and their affairs over dinner every time they get together.

If Tatiana's mom and Mrs. Mega met they would instantly become besties, but they would also argue every 2 seconds.

Tatiana sleeps the most calmly when she's in the safehouse. It was one of the first places she truly felt safe and relaxed in after being on the run for so long, and that feeling never went away. Also Mrs. Mega absolutely has 500 blankets and pillows in that house, so it's kind of impossible to not sleep super cozily. Plus Tati has her personal space heater (Curt) if the blankets don't suffice

Speaking of heat, Tati has pretty bad tolerance for it, so she doesn't really visit Guadalupe during the summer

Curt and Tatiana have a lot of mental issues due to all the violence they've done witnessed and endured. After Owen "died" Curt didn't have anyone who understood that aspect of his life. And for Tatiana, some other girls she was trained alongside with were genuinely her friends, but after she escaped she really couldn't contact anyone she knew, nor make civil friends, lest she puts them in danger. So they are super important to each other when dealing with extended effects of espionage™. Comforting each other, keeping Curt out of his depressive spirals, and helping Tatiana adjust to a normal life.

Tatiana, growing up in the soviet union, is not used to a lot of the new modern stuff in the us. She reads a lot of magazines and tells Curt to buy himself whatever caught her eyes that day. He has to tell her that no, he's not getting a second washing machine or a second fridge, just because it's "really cool"

IIIiiiiiii could go on, but I am tired, so I won't. Hope you like these.

[jedi-bird]

Reading aita posts while trying to wake up makes me (once again) yell about how if your partner/spouse/domestic partner/fuck buddy/platonic-roommate-for-life doesn't respect your hobbies, they aren't meant for you. This is very much a gender neutral statement because I've seen it happen in many forms.

Look, they don't need to join in with your hobbies. They don't even need to like them. They're your hobbies, not theirs. But if they try to stop you from doing them, either with arbitrary rules or by destroying things involved with them, get rid of them (not the hobbies obviously, the significant other).

My mom used to sew and crochet. My stepfather hated it and kept making the space he "allowed" her to do it in farther away from "his space". Eventually she was regulated to a tiny corner of the garage and only allowed to do things if he was asleep (even if it involved fixing or hemming his clothes like he asked). Even when the weather was below freezing. And heaven help her if he woke up while she was making things.

Someone my mom knew loved to cosplay. He had spent a year working on an exact replica of a Qui-Gon costume and only needed the boots (to buy them would be about $300 at the time when the movie came out). Both he and his wife made a ton on money and each had very large "fun money" accounts that did not affect household bills or repairs or savings. She told him absolutely not and threatened to burn his costume if he bought them. He never did. She divorced him two years later to move in with her affair partner.

One of teachers my mom worked with, who I used to make enrichments for, bragged about how she threw out all of her husband's star wars toys. Originals still in their packages, prequels figures from midnight releases, special limited exclusives. All in the dump while he was on a business trip. He had then carefully stored on shelves on one side of the garage, out of the way, and came back to nothing. She came crying to me one day while I was helping set up things in the classroom about how he was divorcing her and she might wind up homeless over some stupid toys. I called her a bitch because she was.

My grandpa used to threaten to turn my grandma's sewing machines into jigsaws because he hated that she had something that made her happy. She's why I still hide my bobbins even though my partner loves that I make things (and helps me pick out colors if I'm indecisive).

On a more positive note, someone in a collector's group I'm in has art prints by an artist their spouse hates. They compromised with the prints stay in their home office or at their in person office because their partner didn't want them to get rid of them. That's a good compromise to me.

My partner loves dnd and video games. I like them too, but not to the same degree because they can make my anxiety much worse. But I watching them play while I crochet and will help them if they get stuck on a puzzle (sometimes they'll ask for an outside perspective). I help them set up for in person games and listen and provide feedback when they need to bounce ideas of someone. And I do play with them on better days because it's fun. They love to watch me crochet and call it witchcraft and calculate how many miles of yarn I use in projects.

There's a big difference with rule such as "let's make sure our hobbies are allowing us time to just be together and to talk and enjoy life" and "you can only do this when I approve it". People need to do things that make them happy. That could be writing, that could be a fiber craft, that could be video games, or even cooking random things. If it's not hurting someone, why try to stop it? Everyone needs an outlet. And if your partner or even you really can't stand something that someone does in their free time, maybe it's time to admit that this isn't the person for you.

[20dollarlolita]

silly question but I wouldn't know who else to ask: Does having too much lace and poofiness ever interact badly with your wheelchair? I know most chairs have a shield between the wheel and the seat but it seems like the overflow could get damaged or stuck and this is something I'd like to consider before I start buying things

Oh, it's absolutely a thing I have to deal with. Most of the time, I'll drape my skirt over my side guards for the sake of taking a picture, and then tuck it back in before I go somewhere.

So pictures like this, I'm definitely going to protect the dress again before we move anywhere.

This specific wheelchair has low profile side guards, because I get my wheelchairs off ebay and that's what the person I got it from had. If I ever order a new chair for me, I'd probably want to get taller guards with a fender on the top. With the kind of clothes that I wear, I'd be willing to pay some extra to get some additional protection. (That said, I'm hopefully not going to ever buy myself a brand new chair since this one's great, already been around for over a decade, and works just fine for me. One of my favorite things about lolita fashion is how much we respect and reuse older things, and that's something that is also part of my life in other ways. We still have hopes of me being able to recover and get back into walking again so I don't want to spend a ton of money on something when I have a thing that's working fine.)

Most arm rests do have some form of protection between the wheel and the clothing, so those are an option as well. I've found that I personally don't like having arm rests, but you can have both clothing protection and arm rests.

The normal way that I tend to have my stuff tucked is to push as much as I want under my legs, and then to shove the extra fullness behind my back. This lets the skirt still look good but also stay out of the way.

Also you can see how I extended my side guards with some fabric-covered timtex that velcros into the chair. Those are actually the exact same guards as I have on the new machine, but you can see how they look a lot shorter. This is because the wheels on this chair are at a different height relative to the frame, versus my current chair. There are things that I could have done to adjust the side guards, like moving them forward. However, by the time that I replaced that wheelchair, the frame was just too narrow for me, so I could move those side guards wherever I wanted and would still be touching the wheels.

So yeah, there's definitely concerns about wearing very voluminous skirts and using a wheelchair at the same time. I try to keep my chair width pretty tight, because I pretty much exclusively self-propel and I like the access to the wheels. I know that a lot of guides for buying wheelchairs say to get a few extra inches of width beyond your physical body measurement, and that would probably make things easier in terms of clothes. I think that the two-post flip-back arm rests on the first chair I used (which is this one and it's pretty good in my experiance) actually protected my clothes a bit better than my current side guards. However, all of the things that made it better for lolita fashion made me like it best as a main means for propelling myself around the world. Extra space and arm rests are really good when other people push you, so that's a thing to consider. At the end of the day, I just got a chair that let me be as independent as I could, and then figured out how to do the lolita part in post.

Little rant time: One of the things that drives me crazy is when people who aren't disable the way I'm disabled try to make lolita rules for people who are disabled like I'm disabled. Usually it's people who do mean well, making statements like, "I think that EGL coords only look good with heeled shoes," and then add things like, "Unless you're disabled and can't wear heels." The person who's saying that thinks that they're being more accepting of disability in the fashion, but what they're actually doing is making a separate set of rules for the disabled to follow. However, people who are disabled are actually pretty aware of what our limitations and abilities are, and we're usually pretty used to problem solving when it comes to these things. I can use a combination of knowing where and what I'm doing and how I'm feeling on any given day to pick footwear that is both safe and appropriate for my given setting. I don't really need a stranger on Rufflechat to try to make separate rules for me without knowing that. Quick tip to people wanting to be accepting of disability in lolita: find disabled lolitas and listen to them. <NOTE: that heels comment is an example opinion and is not at all commonly accepted lolita opinions>